


Every Freaking Year

by Ventorum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Boys Kissing, Christmas, Christmas Crack, Christmas Fluff, Commitment, Cutesy, Declarations Of Love, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Frottage, Gift Giving, Human Castiel, Kissing, Love, Lovey-Dovey, M/M, Monster of the Week, Mystery, Orgasm, Road Trips, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Schmoop, Sexual Content, Sexy Times, Smut, Suspense, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ventorum/pseuds/Ventorum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Cas and Dean's first road trip alone together, Dean decides Cas should experience a family Christmas, because Cas deserves every good experience possible. But nothing ever runs smoothly for the Winchesters and soon Dean's romantic plans are being interrupted by creepy goings on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sneaky Bible Stories

It was nearly Christmas. Dean was reluctant to make a stop anywhere, even to eat. It was a time of year he'd never been fond of. Turkey, stuffing, roasted sweet potatoes and pie. So many pies. Which would have been great, except he didn't know any one who cooked that stuff. Invariably, every diner they went to would serve some dry slices of turkey with too-salty gravy and dry, floury potatoes that had been reheated so many times their crispy skins had become leathery jackets. And for dessert a slab of heavy, suet-based pudding with gummy, tasteless, yellow slime passed off as custard. The thought actually made him shudder. And don't forget mince pies, which were the least palatable of all pies, and Dean should know. And the carols didn't even bear thinking about. So relentlessly perky, sentimental and depressing all at the same time.  
He'd thought he was over it. He and Sam had their own traditions that had meaning for them. They had their prank wars and the 'bitch/jerk' thing, and Dean didn't feel like they had to keep up the pretence of Christmas cheer. Once you'd brought someone back from the dead by selling your soul at a crossroad, any gift you ever gave them afterward was anticlimactic. It was all a sham anyway. People preached good will for a couple of weeks of the year, while their family gatherings caused them to slowly lose their minds, then they went back to being selfish jerks.  
But he wasn't over it, not completely. He glanced over at Cas riding shotgun, jaunty red beanie leaning against the car window, giving colour to his pale cheeks, contrasting with his blue eyes and dark hair. He wanted Cas to have the human Christmas experience, even though Cas seemed to find all days interesting, whether it was Columbus Day or laundry day. You kind of needed kids for the authentic Christmassy thing though. They were too young and unbroken by life to have stopped believing in good things, like gifts appearing overnight from mysterious, benevolent strangers. Cas was a bit like that. He seemed young in the way he saw things, although Dean knew technically he wasn't. He wasn't completely broken either, just a bit… scratched up by life maybe, and he still believed. In second chances, in trusting. In Dean. That's not to say he was naïve, because he was a good judge of character and no doormat, but he was undeniably optimistic and trusting.  
They would definitely have to stop soon. It was getting darker and colder as evening loomed and soon the roads would get icy. The heating in the Impala wasn't great (nobody's perfect), so they rode rugged up, but overnight it was best to huddle up in a motel somewhere and watch awful Christmas movies, interrupted by Cas' amusingly bizarre questions. Every few days Dean would call Sam and confirm they were fine, because Sam was like the nagging sister he'd never wanted.  
Dean pulled off the highway into the next small town they came across. The dark, wet Impala passed under swags of Christmas bunting that garlanded the street. Dean parked them outside the office of the only motel on the main street. The parking lot was poorly lit by yellow sodium vapor lights which were great for fog but did absolutely nothing against the dark. Cas sat up and yawned when the engine stopped.  
"Where are we?"  
Dean smiled. Clearly, Cas had been dozing off during the drive. "Some place called Beaversett."  
Cas frowned a little. He wasn't sure why he asked. The names never meant anything to him, although he had enjoyed many places they had visited, and was even starting to enjoy the journey, slow as it was.  
Dean placed the cold car keys into Cas' warm hand and went in to get them a room. Cas knew the drill. He got their bags out of the car while Dean got them a room. That way Cas didn't have to worry about coming up with aliases or convincing lies and the person behind the counter didn't start speculating about why two men would want a room together. They dumped their bags and got ready to eat at the nearest restaurant that was still open. Cas kept his beanie, zipped up his jacket, put on a scarf, all while Dean sat on the bed and waited. Dean liked that their silences were comfortable, that neither of them felt the need to fill them. Cas looked up from zipping his jacket.  
"Dean. You are not going outside like that."  
"I'll be fine."  
"No, you will be cold. By the time we get to the diner, your hands will be freezing and you'll be very unpleasant company."  
"Why, Cas, how would cold hands make me unpleasant company?" Dean smiled his suggestively crooked smile.  
Cas rolled his eyes, a bad habit he had picked up from Sam. He stood in between Dean's knees and wrapped the still-warm scarf from his own throat, around Dean's neck, while Dean held onto him by the pockets of his jacket and smiled up at  
him, relaxed.  
"Please, Dean." Cas gave him the big-eyed, pleading gaze.  
"Aw, that's not fair."  
Cas' earnest stare lost a little of its innocent quality when the corners of his mouth started to curl up.  
"A hat and gloves as well, Dean."  
"You can't ruin this hair with a hat! And I don't have gloves."  
Cas reached down and stroked Dean's cheek, then slid his hand up into Dean's hair … and rubbed it into an ungodly mess. "Now its ruined anyway. Put a hat on."  
"Fine." Dean glared in silence for a moment, "But there had better be a reward later."  
Cas pulled a plain black beanie onto Dean's dishevelled head. He tilted Dean's chin upwards and kissed him, ending with a lingering suck on his bottom lip and smiled at the effect it had. Dean's eyes had closed and his complaining had ceased. His eyes slowly opened. He stood so they were eye to eye, ran his hands up Cas' jacket and framed Cas' face with his hands, pulling him into another kiss which involved much more exploration and sucking of tongues. "Baby…" he whispered.  
Cas shivered. "No." he said, placing his hands over Dean's. "We are going to eat dinner." Dean slowly, gently rubbed his nose against Cas' and murmured, "You sure?" Dean's warm breath and intense gaze were melting Cas' resolve. "Um… yes?"  
Cas took a head-clearing breath. "Yes."  
Dean's look changed from steamy to fond. "Okay. But if I come back with a full belly, and fall asleep without giving you any 'satisfaction', don't come crying to me."  
"I have yet to survive a single night unmolested, full belly or not," Cas shot back with raised eyebrows.  
"Molested? Oh, someone is sleeping on the couch tonight." Dean's tone was mock-outraged but there was humour in his eyes.  
"Let's go. I'm hungry. I will tell you a story to pass the time." Cas pocketed the room key and herded Dean out the door.  
"What kind of story?"  
"One about a family I knew, who were fleeing cross country. They were hunted. Someone had been killing first born sons and wanted to kill their son." Puffs of steam rose from Cas' lips as he got involved in the story.  
"Whoa. What happened to them? Was it fairies again? Cross country, huh? Did they travel in an RV?"  
"No, they travelled on a donkey." Cas gave a tiny smile.  
"On a…? Dammit, Cas! Stop trying to sneak in bible stories." Cas chuckled. It was a game he never got tired of.  
Last time he had gotten quite a long way into the saga of Samson before Dean had cottoned on. Dean had even seemed to enjoy the drama, in a soap-opera kind of way. The trick was to modernize the names and describe locations in broad,  
general terms. Days later, in a moment of comfortable, closely-tangled weakness, Dean had confessed that he had looked up the story of Samson to find out how it ended; but he hadn't really enjoyed it, because they didn't tell it like Cas did. Cas had liked that admission very much. The rest of that night's interactions had been far less verbal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are coin. Give generously. ;)


	2. Dean's middle name is "Handsy"

They walked to the diner, both of them in hats, with their hands in their pockets. Dean wore the scarf in which Cas had wrapped him, warmed not just by the scarf, but how it had gotten there. Cas wore his jacket zipped up to his chin. When they pushed their way through the steam-clouded doors of the diner, Cas pulled off his gloves and beanie, and tried to rub warmth back into his face. The first thing Dean did was pull off the beanie and try to revive his hair, then he loosened the scarf. An older waitress, in what looked like a bowling uniform, gestured at them to come closer.  
"Come in fellas, its cold out there. Can I get you a seat?"  
"Sure, that would be great." Dean smiled his trademark overfriendly smile as the waitress led them to a booth next to the window.  
"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked, handing them laminated menus.  
"Just coffee for now." Dean smiled again. Cas scowled and waited for the waitress to leave.  
"Dean, were you flirting with the waitress?" Cas asked directly, skewering Dean with a very pointed stare. Dean looked shocked.  
"What? No! I'm being friendly and trying to get us good service, that's all."  
Cas seemed to accept this and settled back in his seat, hidden behind the menu. Dean pretended to read his own menu and surreptitiously stroked the back of Cas' calf with the toe of his boot. Cas' voice came from behind the menu.  
"Dean. Your boots are cold." Dean gave Cas his most winning smile. "Aw, you're still jealous."  
Cas lowered his menu and gazed at Dean with what Dean had come to call The Epic Stare. It was like being minutely examined under a microscope, or standing on stage under the heat of the spotlight.  
Eventually Cas spoke. "I'm not jealous. I was momentarily concerned. Now, what should we order?" That was Cas dismissing the subject. Dean gave a smile reserved just for Cas, one that he knew amused him. It was his 'the-neighbours-are-going-to-complain-about-the-noise-in-the-morning' smirk. He saw Cas' eyes smile before his mouth did, and knew he was forgiven. Cas grinned and shook his head.  
"Food, Dean, concentrate on the food."  
"Okay. If you insist. Have you eaten a Christmas dinner before?"  
"Yes, but it was poor and before sugar was widely available." Dean did a double take. "Really?"  
"Yes."  
"Hm. Well, diner dinners are pretty poor too. There are only three decent Christmas traditions and they are eggnog, mistletoe and presents."  
"Eggnog, mistletoe…and presents?" Cas echoed mistrustingly. "Is this going to be like Valentines Day?"  
"Oh, hell no. This is a wholesome family occasion."  
"Good. I still get quite anxious around food dispensed from aerosols."  
Dean reached across the table and gave Cas' hand a quick squeeze. It had taken Dean a while to tell when Cas was trying to be funny, but he got Cas' humour now. Cas was actually quite the joker, but preferred subtle teasing, very different to the practical jokes and barbed jibes that Dean and Sam exchanged.  
"I guess we have to have a traditional Christmas meal," Dean suggested doubtfully.  
"No we don't," Cas countered. "You're not obliged to do anything any more. You've had enough of that in your life." Dean was surprised by the passion in Cas' voice and the intense frown that accompanied it. "Okay," he agreed. He allowed himself a contented smile. Cas always managed to inspire that warm, comfortable weight in his chest, like a cat curling asleep there. Even he noticed Cas was good for him, and Dean was pretty obtuse. His vocabulary was expanding and yet he didn't feel like a phoney, go figure. He was eating better (although not without argument), drinking less and sleeping the sleep of the carnally satisfied. His smile grew. Yes, finally, life was good. It had been hard surviving this far, but worth it.  
Once when they were visiting Sam, Dean had been absently rubbing Cas' knee, engrossed in the movie they were watching. He hadn't noticed Sam eyeing him.  
"Dude, you're so handsy. Why do you touch him all the time?"  
"Because he let's me."  
Sam had burst out laughing. In his own defence, Dean had pointed out that Cas was always within touching distance. Cas had blushed. It was true. Although Cas wasn't demonstrative in front of others, it didn't matter how much room there was on the couch, he was always wedged right up against Dean. He seemed to need the contact as much as Dean did. Later it had been Cas and Dean's turn to laugh.  
It turned out having amazing, loud sex with the guy you were crazy about, in the room next door to your pathetically single brother, was a complete turn-on. Who knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be a Scrooge with your comments. ;) See what I did there, with the Christmas reference?


	3. Feuding Flashback

Dean had waited until Cas was in the men's room before he called Sam.  
"Hey, Dean. How're you guys doing?" Sam assumed this was Dean's weekly catch-up call to confirm he was alive and hadn't been killed, possessed, kidnapped, de-aged, drugged, doppelgangered, cursed, flung into the future or body-swapped. Stranger things had happened.  
"Hey, Sam. Listen, can we do something this year?"  
"About what?"  
"I mean Christmas, you butt-puppet!"  
"Okay, don't get your panties in a bunch. I thought you hated Christmas?"  
"Well… Cas hasn't had a family Christmas before. And we're his family now."  
There was silence from Sam as he grasped what Dean wasn't saying.  
"So … you want to make Christmas good - for Cas…?"  
"Yeah."  
"And this involves me because…?"  
"You have a home we can visit and decorate. You could invite Bobby. Maybe Gabriel. Or Balthazar. Girls, if you know any."  
Sam sighed loudly to indicate his unhappiness with the plan. He knew it was wasted on Dean that it was short notice to be giving someone, for hosting a family Christmas, even if it was only for very select members of the Winchester clan.  
"Please?" Dean tried hard to sound pathetically earnest. He'd learned from the best.  
"Oh, fine."  
"Yes! Gotta go. Cas is coming back."  
Cas leaned on the roof of the Impala, eyeing the map Dean had spread there.  
"Here," Dean said, sliding a pack of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups across the roof of the car to Cas. "I got your favourite. And your triple espresso."  
"Thank you, Dean."  
Dean grinned. He always said that. It didn't matter how many times they had done this. It was always "Thank you, Dean," never just "Thanks," or "Thank you." Spending more time with Cas, he noticed these things. With strangers, like store clerks or wait staff it was "Thank you," but with family it was "Thank you, Sam," or "Thank you, Bobby." It was never discussed, but Dean knew it was important.  
He folded up the map and got into the car, Cas doing the same. He handed Cas his coffee. It had been a carefully debated rule they had discussed seriously and at length, that Cas was allowed to bring his coffee into the car, because he liked his coffee plain and he was scrupulously neat. The day he started to order sticky, milky sweet confections, or get clumsy, the deal was off. Cas thought the deal fair.  
"I'm heading us back the way we came. I wanna visit Sam." Dean paused with his hand on the ignition and glanced at Cas. Cas looked at Dean over the edge of his coffee as he took a sip. He swallowed his coffee and nodded. He had learned that when Dean paused like that after saying something, he wanted a response.  
"I like it when we visit Sam. It makes you happy." Dean's shoulders relaxed at this.  
"It makes you happy too," Dean pointed out.  
Cas smiled mischievously. "That's because Sam is a good person... Why can't you be more like him?"  
"What? What are you-" Dean's complaint was interrupted by Cas' laughter.  
"Oh, you're just lucky you're holding a coffee, funny guy." Dean's complaint was tempered by his fond smile. He liked Cas' rare laughs. He especially liked that they weren't so rare anymore.

  
Cas wasn't sure why, but Dean seemed in a hurry to get to Sam's. He didn't want to stop unless absolutely necessary and was willing for them to drive in shifts to save time. Cas was willing to forgo decent meals, but had insisted they stop for sleep in proper beds. The car was just too cold and uncomfortable for sleeping in, especially sitting up. And Cas liked his sleep. Dean was impatient with the delay and was in bed, fidgeting, when Cas came out of the shower. Cas climbed in beside Dean.  
"Dean… you are needlessly burning energy fussing like this. Just relax and accept it. You'll feel better in the morning." Dean harrumphed grumpily and rolled over, turning his back to Cas. Cas sighed heavily and rubbed Dean's back, then spooned up against Dean, slid his hand over Dean's arm and interlaced their fingers. He knew Dean's unhappiness wasn't specifically directed at him and smiled when Dean's thumb rubbed circles over his knuckles. He rested his lips against the back of Dean's neck, remembering their first fight; the one that had been their turning point.

  
-oOo-  
 _"It was the only way."_  
 _They sat in the motel room glaring at each other, patched and bloody, not all of it theirs. Sam packed the first aid kit away nervously and headed out the door._   _He knew better than to get involved. They were tired from the hunt, but they wouldn't rest until this was resolved. As soon as the door closed after Sam, Dean started._  
 _"God damn it, Cas! It **told** you not to do it! You **said** you wouldn't."_  
 _"I told **you** not to do it. And you **ignored** me… You went in there with every intention of making **yourself** the bait." Cas' frown was thunderous._  
 _"That's not what I'm angry about, you dumb-ass! I don't expect you to be a wallflower-"_  
 _"-I don't understand then. What are you angry about?" Cas' brow was still creased, but there was more of confusion in it._  
 _"You **lied** to me! …You know what? I don't want to talk to you right now." Dean scooped the keys off the formica table and headed for the door._  
 _"Dean?" Cas was suddenly unsure what that meant. Was this some kind of turning point? Had he missed important signals that normal people understood? Dean huffed out a sigh, paused and came back to face Castiel. Cas searched his eyes for some kind of clue to what it all meant. Dean still looked upset. He pulled Cas closer by the ears and kissed his forehead. He left. Without saying another word. Cas abruptly felt clammy all over._

_It was the only thing Dean could think of to stop himself from saying things, in the heat of the moment, that he'd regret later. Dean put the keys in the ignition and sat in the driver's seat, feeling betrayed and angry. It hurt. It reminded him too much of Sammy in his demon blood days. And now Cas was sitting in there looking all lost and confused because Dean was mad as hell. Too mad to explain it properly. It wasn't the risky actions that made him angry, it was the lying about it. He knew Cas didn't have a duplicitous bone in his body. He'd obviously thought it was the right thing to do. Dean thumped his head back against the car seat. This wasn't how he wanted them to be._

_Cas heard Dean crunch out onto the cheap parking lot, the groan of the car door, the creak of the suspension as Dean got in, the slamming shut of the car door._  
 _Cas sat down heavily on the bed and waited for the sound of the engine, feeling lost and horrified. He waited. And waited. He expected and feared the sound for an endless fifteen minutes._  
 _Then unexpectedly he heard the groan of the car door opening again._  
 _He stood up as Dean let himself in. Dean saw the exposed look in Cas' eyes. He sat on the bed and motioned for Cas to do the same. Dean took a deep breath and told himself he was a grown-assed man, and if he wanted this (he forced himself to think it)...relationship... to be more functional than a character in a teen vampire romance, he'd have to talk about it._  
 _"Look, I just needed time to think." He put his hand on Cas' knee. "Our lives are dangerous. We can't protect each other from everything. You can look after yourself pretty well, anyway. But don't lie to me, okay?"_  
 _Cas nodded quickly. If that's all it was, he could do that. Dean continued._  
 _"I'm not saying give in and agree to everything I say - 'cause I know how you love absolutes - I'm saying, if you don't agree, you gotta keep telling me. You don't lie down and play possum."_  
 _Cas' brow creased in confusion. Dean sighed. He should know better than to use slang with Cas. "Don't just tell me what I want to hear. I want you to be honest. Got it?"_  
 _Cas nodded and swallowed the pain in his throat before confessing. "I thought you were leaving." His voice was low, perhaps little throatier than usual._  
 _"I was just going to drive around for a while, 'cause I was angry at you…but I kept seeing the look on your face when I left and…I couldn't do it."_  
 _"I was angry too, Dean." Cas brow furrowed somewhere between anger and sorrow. He sensed there was only a thin membrane of calm holding back his own turmoil._  
 _"Yeah? You hide it well."_  
 _Cas felt the membrane split. "You're the most important thing I have. You made me feel like my most important thing didn't matter, like you were throwing it away."_  
 _Dean's face scrunched in consternation and his voice rose doubtfully. "Like I was... throwing **myself** away?"_  
 _"Yes." Cas' mouth became a tight, inflexible line. "Like garbage." His voice became lower and rougher. "You're **not** garbage, Dean." Cas looked on the verge of smiting him, even without any angelic powers, or at least punching him in the mouth._  
 _Dean looked at Cas for several seconds. Cas was trying extremely hard to tell him something important, so he really made an effort to put himself in Cas' shoes. How would **he** like it, if Cas kept throwing himself around like he didn't matter? Like he was disposable. The thought gave him a deep sense of discomfort in his gut, and made his heart clench more than a little. His mind skittered away from the memories of a bleak future that never happened. Cas wasn't disposable. Cas was irreplaceable. The little light bulb clicked on. Cas thought **he** was irreplaceable. He was making Cas feel sick to his stomach and making Cas' heart ache every time he gambled with his own life. Today had been a taste of his own medicine._  
 _His eyes met Cas' squarely. "Okay. I get it. It's selfish of me to take risks like that."_  
 _Some of the tension left Cas' eyes. He put his hand over Dean's and laced their fingers together tightly. Dean smirked "That's so girly, Cas." But the only move he made was to get closer and squeeze back at Cas' hand. The kiss he gave Cas was open and promissory._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. The whole flashback thing feels shoe-horned in and sticks out like dogs' balls. I lack 'the skillz'.


	4. Waffles and iPhones

Dean woke to Cas firmly stroking up and down his back with both hands. He smiled into the pillow and pretended to be asleep, until Cas' hands drifted to his buttocks and squeezed in a circular motion. Dean gasped in surprise.  
"Good morning, Dean." He could hear the smile in Cas' voice without looking.  
"Mph." He buried his face harder against the pillow.  
He felt Cas' warm lips brush against his ear. "I got waffles," he whispered.  
Dean rolled onto his back pulling Cas on top of him. "I love you. And your waffles… is there syrup?"  
"Of course." Cas' kiss tasted of maple.  
"Seriously, as if I needed more reasons to love you," Dean sighed against Cas' lips.  
Cas rolled him to the side to give him a soft slap on the ass. "Get up."  
"Oh , I'm _getting up_ …" Dean said meaningfully. Cas rolled his eyes with a grin. He climbed off Dean, out of bed and went to the kitchenette. "Fine. More for me. I'll just eat your waffles too."  
Dean was at the shiny, avocado green countertop like a shot. "I will make you ride in the trunk," he threatened, before filling his mouth with waffle and squirting the syrup directly from the plastic bottle into his mouth. Cas shook his head, smiling indulgently, and ate his own waffle like an intelligent, sentient being should. The first waffle was just for show, Dean took his time savouring the rest.  
"Dean?"  
"Whuh?"  
"Can we go at a more reasonable pace today?"  
Dean took his attention from the last of his waffles to find Cas raising an eyebrow at him. Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth and looked ashamed. "I'm sorry, babe." He placed a hand on Cas' shoulder, rubbing with his thumb. "I'm just in a hurry to get to Sam's before Christmas. We can take it a bit slower."  
Cas cupped his cheek and brushed his lips over Dean's. "Good. Today seems like a nice day. I thought we could have coffee in the park before we go."  
Dean leaned his head against Cas' and whispered, smiling. "Aw, you old romantic, you."  
-oOo-  
They had found an empty bench in the manicured park and sat with their take-away coffees. Dean was lounging back, one arm stretched along the back of the bench, the other holding his coffee. Cas sat forward with his elbows on his knees, blowing on his coffee. Being a cold time of year, the park only contained a couple walking a pair of curly-haired dogs, one crazy jogger doing laps around the pond and a mother with a young child near the play equipment. The mother was completely focussed on her iPhone.  
"Mom! Look! Look at me!"  
The child's shrill voice caught Cas' attention. He watched frowning. The frown was turned on Dean when he slurped loudly from his coffee.  
"What?"  
Cas ignored the question and turned back to the child's piercing demands for attention. Dean's eyes followed in the same direction.  
"Look! Mommy! See? Look what I can do!" The child was on the round-about, alternatively running to speed it along and then riding it around and around. The mother had not looked up from her iPhone once.  
Dean watched Cas as he continued to scowl at the mother ignoring her child. "That's really bugging you isn't it?"  
Cas gave him a brief glance. It was enough for Dean to read the desperation in his eyes. "Cas. No."  
"Mom! Mo-o-ommeeee!"  
Cas gave Dean a pleading look. Dean sighed, knowing whatever Cas did, he'd back him up.  
Suddenly Cas placed his coffee on the ground and headed towards the mother and child.  
"Shit."  
Dean put his own coffee down and ran after Cas. The woman never saw it coming. She was too busy with her phone. Until Cas snatched it from her hand and threw it in the pond. "Stop neglecting your child."  
Cas skewered her with a piercing scowl. She stared open mouthed. The child was doing the same, going around and around, staring.  
"Oh, shit, Cas. Lets go." Dean grabbed Cas' hand and started running for the car, before the woman came to her senses and demanded her phone replaced, or assumed they were kiddy fiddlers.  
Once back at the car, Dean gave himself the liberty of a chuckle. Cas was sitting, staring at his hands in his lap. Dean covered Cas' hands with his own.  
"Hey. You did _good_. She'll think twice about taking her kid for granted. "  
Cas gave him a hesitant, sidelong smile. "Really?"  
"Absolutely. And you'll have something to tell Sam when we see him."  
"Her expression _was_ quite comical."  
Dean smiled as he started the Impala, feeling much more relaxed than the day before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I vicariously dealt with a pet peeve of mine through fic. So, sue me! Its the only way I stop myself from actually externalizing these actions! :D


	5. The Moose and the Tree

Another tedious day of heading back to Sam's place, the occasional shaft of sun creating bright reflections from the wet road. The good news was, they were almost there. Dean turned the radio down.  
"Cas? What are you getting Sam for Christmas?"  
Cas looked surprised under his red beanie. "I hadn't given it any thought." His lips pressed together as he gazed out the window, brow furrowed. He was clearly giving it thought now. Dean loved Cas' Serious Contemplation face. It kind of made him wish he had some mistletoe.  
"Well, what are you giving _me_ for Christmas?"  
Cas turned and raised his eyebrows, making the beanie rise a little. The corners of his mouth curled up. "I think I give you _quite_ enough as it is." Dean smirked "Well then, put a gift tag on yourself and I'll unwrap you later."  
"So the gift tag is what makes it different from any _other_ day?"  
Dean felt Cas' hand slide up and down his thigh. He gave a pained sigh. "Seriously dude, we have to change the subject if I'm gonna keep driving safely." Cas laughed quietly, leaned over to kiss Dean on the cheek and squeezed his knee. "Very well."  
"We'll stop before we get to Sam's and buy some gifts. And eggnog. And mistletoe…Where the hell do you buy mistletoe?"

-oOo-

Dean parked the Impala in the furthest corner of the department store parking lot. He wasn't risking any scratches and dents from shopping trolleys or those ridiculous urban SUVs. What could a soccer mom possibly do that required such a powerful car? They strolled to the doors of the store where Dean gave Cas a list of people they were buying for.  
"Okay. _I'm_ going to shop, and _you're_ going to shop, and we'll meet at the cash registers in half an hour, or when I lose the will to live - whichever comes first."  
"Half an hour will be plenty of time. Who is 'Random'?" Cas frowned at his list, perplexed.  
"That just means a gift for people who might turn up unexpectedly. Just get something generic, like a box of chocolates."  
Cas nodded and gave Dean's shoulder a squeeze, aware of his aversion to shopping where pie wasn't involved. He strode into the store ahead of Dean.

  
A while later Dean was in the menswear section, hating himself while trying to decide if it was worse to get Cas underwear or an ugly sweater, when his phone rang. He turned the ugly sweater around trying to gauge if Cas would love it or hate it, while he answered Cas' call.  
"Hey. You finished already?"  
"Yes. I'm waiting outside."  
"We were supposed to meet at the _check-out_."  
"I didn't want you to see your gift."  
Dean smiled to himself. "Okay, have it your way. I'll be out in a little while."  
"Alright."  
Once upon a time Cas would have just hung up without acknowledging whether he had heard or agreed with Dean's statement. Dean smiled dopily at his phone before putting it back in his pocket. He hung the sweater back up and headed to the jewellery and accessories section.  
When he came out of the store, Dean was holding a large shopping bag and a carton of Southern Comfort eggnog.  
"Here. You go and put this in the car." He handed Cas the keys and pressed the large bag and eggnog into his arms.  
"Wait! Dean! Where are you going?"  
Dean stopped part way into his stride and paused before saying, "…Getting... mistletoe?"  
Cas frowned at Dean's evasiveness. "Florists, Dean. A girl in the store told me they sell it at florists."  
"Excellent."  
Dean turned and strode off. Cas watched him for a moment, nonplussed, before juggling all of the items back to the car.  
Eventually Dean arrived back, with a tiny sprig of mistletoe in hand. The interior of the car was cold. His reception from Cas was colder. Dean had been busy with more than just the mistletoe, and despite Cas' grumpiness - it was totally worth it.

-oOo-

Dean pressed the apartment number on the intercom and waited.  
Sam's tinny voice crackled from the speaker. "Dean! Come up!"  
There was a buzz and Dean pulled the security door open when he heard the click. Dean carried most of his and Castiel's luggage to try to get on Cas' good side again. Cas carried their recently purchased gifts and followed Dean up the stairs. Dean paused to grin down at Cas.  
"Enjoying the view?"  
Cas gazed at Dean, unimpressed. Dean sighed and continued up the stairs.

  
Sam whipped open the door before Dean could even knock. He held the door open grinning as Dean and Cas came in.  
"Here, put your stuff down over there."  
Sam motioned to a corner in the main lounge area they had just entered. From here they could see into the ugly, Nixon-era kitchen which joined onto the lounge, and the three doors all leading directly from the compact lounge: the bathroom, bedroom and guest room. It was tiny, but it was enough. Unfortunately it meant you always had to go through the lounge to get to the bathroom, but the rent was reasonable so Sam felt he could live with it. There wasn't a lot of natural light since the apartment was in one of the older buildings, surrounded by taller, newer buildings that blocked out the light, but Sam spent a lot of time outside the apartment anyway, so he was content.  
"Have a drink." He brought a glass for each of them.  
"Holy water?" Dean questioned.  
"Just drink it, Dean."  
Dean shrugged and drank it. "You gonna test us with a silver blade next?"  
Sam shrugged back at him. "Can't be too careful. Things aren't always what they seem. You know that."  
Dean toed back the corner of the rug in the middle of the floor to reveal a painted Devil's Trap under it. He smiled and sat on the couch, putting his feet up on the old chest that served as a coffee table.  
"Ah!" he sighed, "Home, sweet home. There's nothing like a Winchester Welcome."  
Sam corrected him. "Winchester's don't "welcome" people. You have to cross the threshold on your own steam, without invitation."  
Cas looked around the room. "There are no decorations."  
"Yeah… I thought you might like to help with that…" Sam glanced at Dean questioningly.  
Dean grinned. "Awesome. You got a tree?"  
Sam blushed. "…Yes." He disappeared into his room, where they could hear rustling, thumping and the occasional swearing.

  
Dean turned to Cas while they had some privacy. He patted the sofa cushion beside him.  
"Cas, you can't stay mad at me. I'm sorry I took so long, okay?" Cas stared at him for a moment, then came and sat next to Dean stiffly. Dean quickly confessed, "I had to get some final gift stuff in secret. I couldn't let you come with me." Cas sighed tiredly and loosened his shoulders a little. "You could have told me." He leaned against Dean.  
"I wanted it to be a surprise." Dean inhaled against Cas' shock of hair and exhaled with a satisfied hum. "Are we okay?"  
Cas turned to face Dean and rubbed Dean's belly as if he was a cat. "Yes, Dean. We're okay." He kissed Dean's lips, eyes smiling. "We were okay while I was still mad at you."

  
Sam came back with a medium sized box. He opened it and pulled out something opalescent, white and fluffy. He pulled out an X-shaped stand with a cord attached to it. Then he pulled out the white, fluffy thing that looked like a magic fairy duster and pressed something at its base. There was a rustly "fwhump" and the small fibre optic tree opened like an umbrella as its branches sprang out. He plugged it into its stand and looked hopefully at Cas and Dean, who looked respectively fascinated and horrified.  
"That. Is _not_ a tree."  
Sam ignored Dean and switched the tree on. The tiny optic fibres in its branches began to cycle through a glowing rainbow of colours, reflecting from the opalescent fake foliage.  
"It's very pretty." Cas conceded.  
Sam convinced Cas that making their own tree ornaments would be more in keeping with the holiday spirit. Dean accused him of penny pinching, which Sam admitted was probably the case. After a few generous tumblers of 'seasoned' eggnog, which Cas declared to be too rich for him, Dean thought to ask, "Where is everyone? Are they coming?"  
Sam waved a hand vaguely and expansively. "Not yet. Christmas Day. They're coming Christmas Day."  
"Uh huh." Dean nodded sagely.  
Cas was threading multi-colored popcorn to garland the small tree with. "You've both had too much eggnog," he observed.  
"Nuh-uh," Sam denied, before declaring he was going to bed. He stumbled off to brush his teeth.  
"Cas, d'you wanna go to bed?" Dean smirked, wiggling his eyebrows in what he thought was an enticing manner. Cas' mouth curled into a fond smile.  
"I'm finding this garland-making very soothing."  
Dean's brows converged in confusion. "Is that a yes or no?"  
Cas stretched his back and sighed comfortably. "In a little while, Dean. Go and get ready for bed."  
Dean grinned. "'Kay."  
He leaned over from his seat to kiss Cas and nearly fell on him. Cas caught him and chuckled. "You're very endearing, when you're not being infuriating."  
Dean grinned complacently and licked his way clumsily into Cas' mouth. He tasted like nutmeg and alcohol and lowered inhibitions. Cas decided he'd better escort Dean to bed after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. They're ridiculously in love. Even when they fight, they don't really fight. You won't find any angst in this story!


	6. Good Together

Dean dragged himself up through a safe, sleepy haze. He didn't know words to express the contentment he felt, waking with Cas pasted to his back. He could feel the warm stroke of Cas' hand up and down his spine, Cas' lips. Cas ran his hand once more down Dean's back so smooth and strong, slid it under Dean's arm and around his waist, his fingers feeling each breath. He pressed his lips against Dean's shoulder for a few moments, mapping Dean with his lips. His hand slid lower, under Dean's shorts; hot, tender flesh nestled in Cas' eager palm.  
Dean pressed back against Cas, saying with actions and quickly-exhaled breaths what he was unwilling to say out loud. He couldn't ignore Castiel's erection, nestled hotly against his buttocks. He couldn't remember how to live without this.  
"You're snuggling." Cas sounded amused, his arms wrapped around Dean, one hand pressing warm on Dean's belly, the other toying with him slowly.  
"Cas, don't make me kill you." Dean didn't sound particularly threatening, murmuring half asleep from his eggnog-induced coma and Cas' careful attention.  
Cas rested his lips against Dean's ear. "Better than you have tried," he whispered. Dean reached back, cupping a hand against the back of Cas' thigh.  
"Don't even joke about that."  
Cas huffed a warm laugh against Dean's ear. Dean reached up and back a little and let Cas' bird-nest hair tickle against his hand. He adored that untameable hair. He turned his head and pulled Cas into a relaxed, open-mouthed kiss. Cas' eyes slipped closed and his cupped hand faltered as their tongues rolled together greedily. Dean twined his fingers with Cas' and encouraged him to keep a rhythm. He loved Cas' slim fingers. His body couldn't help responding to them. Like everything Dean associated with Cas, they were kind and firm and sure.  
Cas was rubbing his own cock languidly against the cleft of Dean's ass, the warm fabric no impediment to his enjoyment. Cas never had a goal in mind. He just enjoyed each sensation for its own sake. Dean slowly stopped Cas' hand. It was good. Really good. But he wanted to see what was in Cas' eyes right now. What he was thinking, feeling. Dean rolled over and admired Cas, all relaxed and blissful. That's what he needed to see; Cas' eyes broadcasting ease and certainty. Cas rested his hands on Dean's hips and looked at him questioningly.  
Now that he could read Cas' eyes Dean pulled him close and pressed their mouths tightly together again. Their lips made a wet, lush noise as they tried to find their pace. Cas smiled drowsily and softly touched his forehead to Dean's. Dean wondered how he had managed to hold onto someone who was so honest and open. Probably because Cas was also tough and supremely tenacious.  
Dean didn't know how he had ever earned the kind of loyalty and unreserved love Cas chose to give him. Maybe he hadn't earned this funny, generous, gorgeous guy. Maybe he was just lucky to have scored the ex-angel with the bad-boy kink. So freaking lucky. He was thankful that words weren't really necessary. They had never been Dean's forte. Their eyes and the way they touched said everything they needed to know.  
Cas could see Dean's eyes, become momentarily contaminated with self-doubt, a doubt that only ever surfaced when they were intimate. Cas leaned into Dean, kissing him with serious purpose. His hands, moved momentarily to Dean's hips, smoothed firmly over Dean's ass, which yielded deliciously through the cotton under his squeezing fingertips. The fingers of Cas' hands slid down to rest comfortably in the soft crease under each buttock, fingers occasionally caressing the back of Dean's thighs, holding Dean close. Dean tried to slow the teasing twist of Cas' tongue, tried to get his own shallow breathing under control. His hand clenched involuntarily in Cas' thick hair. His other cupped the small of Cas' back. The roll of their hips began unconsciously to set the pace of their kisses. Dean's fingers moved to cup Cas' face and smeared sweat  
from Cas' temples through curls of dampened hair. Cas' uninhibited moaning and the odd soft grunts, were having a pronounced effect on Dean, who restrained himself to heavy breathing and the occasional breathless gasp. Cas drew his face away from Dean's hands to examine Dean's face. Dean's self-doubt had evaporated. He offered Cas a slow smile that was intoxicatingly arousing. Cas smiled contentedly in response, hands exploring Dean's chest, Dean's nipples brushing rough against his palms. Cas marveled at how a brief touch on his palm could  
create a deep flourish of desire; as intensely wanted as Dean's doubt turning to trust. Dean looped a hand behind Cas' neck and pulled him close, dragging his lips over Cas' neck and cheek. He stopped to lick his lips and tasted salt. Cas gave a half-frustrated moan, grabbed Dean's face with both hands and mashed their mouths together ardently. Dean eagerly sucked Cas' lip into his mouth.  
He released Cas' mouth and lay back on the bed, squirming out of his underwear, panting. Cas ran curious, gentle fingers down the underside of his cock and carefully cupped Dean's sac in his palm, fingers stroking softly once. Dean closed his eyes and tried not to lose it right there. He might have groaned. Loudly. From the depths of his soul.  
He couldn't keep his hands from gliding over Cas' glistening skin; his hips, his ass, his back, his shoulders, his arms. So hot, so moist, so freely his. Cas slowly, and with absolute concentration, ran his hands up Dean's thighs, over his hips, his stomach, his chest, to his shoulders. Absorbed, Dean watched the steady progress of Cas' hands, his own hands curled around Cas' biceps. Dean looked up to find Cas watching him with affection. Cas tilted Dean's chin up with warm fingers and kissed him slowly and thoroughly, sucking on his tongue as he pulled away. He pressed his lips softly to Dean's forehead. He sat up with his eyes locked on Dean's and wriggled his underwear off.  
Their eyes still bound to each other, Cas kneeled over Dean, ran his hands over the back of Dean's thighs and guided Dean's legs to wrap around him. He lowered himself onto Dean, keeping some of his body weight on his elbows. His arms framed Dean's head as he linked his hands together leaned down to kiss him deeply. Dean arched up, tightly wrapping his arms around Cas, and pulled their chests together. Cas quietly chuckled into the kiss. Dean groaned and disrupted the kiss long enough to press their damp foreheads together for a moment. He  
sighed as Cas began moving against him without a word. Perfect.  
Dean arched his back again, trying to get the angle that would provide that deliriously pleasurable stroking sensation for both of them. Cas' hips rolled agonizingly slowly. Then Cas slid his hands underneath Dean to cup his buttocks, squeezing and holding him closer with each rolling thrust. Dean felt them slide against each other firmly each and every time. The whimper that escaped his throat was not a sound he ever thought he would hear himself utter. He couldn't regret it, once he saw the raw passion in Cas' eyes.  
Dean was getting close. His breaths were becoming shorter, while the space when he held his breath became longer. His breathing was sounding ragged. And he'd made that sound. The one that made Cas shiver with need.  
Dean still barely believed Cas was so eager, sexy and wanted him so much. How could he say no to that? Dean gave himself permission to accept everything Cas wanted to give him. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding back. His orgasm caught him by surprise. His body arched involuntarily for several seconds, his limbs clenching tightly around Cas. He made a choked sound, as he pulsed warm and slick over himself, surprising himself by laughing as he tried to catch his breath, because he felt so good. He'd never realized how easy it would be.  
Cas' shuddered abruptly as Dean held onto him. Dean suddenly felt tender and incredibly protective of Cas, who was letting himself be so vulnerable to Dean, not just now, but always. He felt he hadn't given Cas enough, as though he always wanted to give Cas more. He felt Cas' back muscles jerk as he spurted warmly between them, then another warm eruption as Cas jerked inelegantly again, gasping breathlessly and a third time before he collapsed bonelessly onto Dean with a long, deeply contented sigh. Dean stroked Cas' nape, wet with perspiration, and turned his head to kiss Cas' damp temple. Cas hummed as he tried to catch his breath.  
Dean chuckled to himself. They hadn't even gotten to the 'main event'.  
"We're good together," he whispered into Cas' damp hair. Cas' answer was a simple, breathless "Yes".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was incredibly awkward to write. It's a sex scene, but it's supposed to be about the feeeeeeeeelings, so I really didn't want to fill it with graphic descriptions of what went where, or creative names for parts of the male anatomy. I leave that to 50 Shades of No Way.  
> Pass? Fail? What say the jury?


	7. Lending a Hand

Dean woke to find Cas' face pressed to his cheek, one hand clenched in Dean's hair, the other cupping his jaw. Dean's arms were wrapped around Cas, their legs tangled. They were sticky and sweaty and Dean couldn't have cared less. They'd been so wrung out, he wasn't sure who had slept in the wet spot. He suspected he _was_ the wet spot, but it really didn't matter. It didn't even bother him that it hadn't been one of their best efforts, because even when it wasn't spectacular, it was always _good_. He always got where he needed to go, and Cas always wound up with that satisfied smile on his face.  
Cas buried his face against Dean's cheek and felt the corner of Dean's smile curl against his lips. Dean kissed Cas on the lips and watched his eyes open. He was going to say something before those unconditionally trusting eyes opened, but he couldn't remember what. Cas' mouth slowly curved into a devastatingly sated smile. Dean was dazzled by it. He rubbed the small of Cas' back until Cas' eyelids dropped again. It might have been minutes or hours, Dean couldn't tell or care. He felt so ridiculously fortunate to be able to do this simple thing with Cas. For Cas.  
From his deep, even breathing it was apparent that Cas was asleep again. Dean carefully covered him with the duvet. He'd learned, during his bizarrely complicated life, that these were the moments you didn't take for granted. He tried to engrave every image, every emotion he was feeling, permanently into his memory. He watched over Cas for a few more moments, before realizing how douchey that was, shook his head and slipped out of bed to have a shower.

-oOo-

Dean and Sam leaned against the bench dividing the kitchen area from the lounge, neither of them ready for conversation yet. Their coffees were slowly clearing their bleary, eggnogged heads.  
Some wrapped gifts had 'appeared' under the unnatural tree overnight.

Cas shuffled sleepily out of the guest room in pyjama pants and faded t-shirt, his eyes barely open. He scuffed somnolently over to Dean, wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and leaned his head against Dean's temple. Dean put his coffee down on the bench, brushed Cas' hair back and put an arm around him. Cas' dark-lashed eyes were closed. Dean couldn't understand how someone could be so adorable, sexy and _grumpy_ at the same time. His heart thumped a bit harder. _He'd_ done that, he thought, with pride. Well, may be not the adorable part, and only _part_ of the sexy.  
"Hey, baby," He whispered, rocking Cas a little as he wrapped his arms around him. He nuzzled firmly below Cas' ear. "You smell like us..."  
Cas' arms tightened around him. Dean slid his mouth to Cas' parted lips and let Cas set a slow, sleepy pace against his tongue.  
There was a loud throat-clearing noise from Sam. Cas stopped kissing Dean, nudging his nose affectionately against Dean's cheek and turned to regard Sam with curiosity.  
"You guys have to stop doing _that_ in my guest room." Sam frowned.  
"You're just jealous," Dean teased, smiling contentedly.  
"No, I just don't want to wash those sheets," Sam shot back, compressing his lips in a way that meant there was bitch-face looming in the near future.  
"We will wash the sheets," Cas offered. Dean's glare at close range was not pretty. "Or I can sleep on the couch," Cas continued, raising a challenging eyebrow at Dean. Dean imagined sleeping in the roomy bed by himself, waking up cold and alone. He'd probably end up joining Cas on the couch. He couldn't afford the dry cleaning bill for that.  
"Fine," Dean agreed begrudgingly, "We'll do the sheets."  
Sam smiled to himself. "Whipped, " he muttered as he took another sip of his coffee.  
Cas ran a thumb over Dean's unshaven jaw and gave him a final kiss before disappearing into the bathroom, Dean's eyes unconsciously following.  
"You know, as part of the Christmas experience, I've booked you and Cas into a volunteer program for the day…"  
Dean's eyes darted back to Sam and glued themselves there.  
"Are you _serious_?"  
"Yes, Dean. Christmas is about peace, giving and helping others. And, yes, I know, I know - eggnog, gifts and cartoons like Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer."  
"Seriously? After everything we've done. You want us to do volunteer work? Isn't what we _normally_ do considered volunteer work? It's not like we get paid!"  
Sam folded his arms, unimpressed with Dean's argument. "You'll be helping the homeless and the less fortunate."  
Dean folded his own arms stubbornly. "Dude, we used to _be_ the homeless and less fortunate!"  
"Well then, help the friendless and helpless!"  
Dean huffed, frustrated because Sam knew he couldn't claim to have been helpless or friendless.

-oOo-

Sam made sure they got to their volunteer appointment. Dean was relieved to find that it was nothing more strenuous than keeping some geriatric folks cheery and handing out their party food. Unfortunately for the volunteer staff, and a few of the older folks, Cas had a knack for being a little too blunt and honest.  
"Have you no family?"  
The sack-shaped little woman burst into tears. Cas did apologise, but he really had little sense of what might set someone off, or the sad circumstances that might have brought people to this place. After that, they put Cas to work in the kitchen.  
Dean was left to 'entertain' the old folk by himself. He figured he should be fine. He was good at winning people over. Handing out food and drink. Pretending to listen to their longwinded, pointless stories. He could be charming. He could _do_ this. So he served them cake and smiled winsomely, asking their names, and whether they'd be on Santa's naughty or nice list. Maybe _that_ was what did it, but it was deeply embedded in Dean's character to flirt good-naturedly and make small jokes with people to break the ice. Probably he was imagining it. These people were _old_. They could barely _see_ him, let alone leer lasciviously at him when he was getting them a cup of punch.  
But he hadn't imagined it.  
When he turned to get Lillian her third cake, she squeezed his ass. He jumped like a surprised cat and stared in shock. Her friend, Edith, giggled. Then toothless Walter grinned gummily and _winked_ at him. That was it! He was _not_ about to be molested by a bunch of old people! Then a thought occurred to him. "Christo."  
Not a single one even blinked, let alone showed signs of being possessed by a demon. Dean sighed resignedly. He raised his voice.  
"Okay. Here's the deal. Look all you like, I don't care. But the first one to touch, gets a bullet in the eye."  
Walter smacked his gums hungrily and looked happier than ever. For the first time, Dean worried that he might be outmatched.  
"What did he say?" Edgar, at the back, whispered loudly, cupping his bad ear.  
"I think he said we can look and touch, if we want to try!" Pearl, his scandalized neighbor, enunciated loudly and clearly into Edgar's good ear.  
Dean wiped a hand down his face. He couldn't shoot a bunch of wrinklies, even if he felt they deserved it. Sam, on the other hand, was a dead man.

When nearly two hours had passed, Dean's nerves couldn't take it any more. He burst into the kitchen where Cas sat, chatting with three very pretty, young sorority girls, while peeling apples. Dean stopped in his tracks, a scowl crossing his face. The blonde, and two brunettes looked him over, much like the elderly folk had. His scowl deepened and his hand went to the back of his jeans for the gun that wasn't there, but locked safely in the Impala.  
"I'm getting groped by Betty White and you're doing Girls Gone Wild?"  
Cas ignored the reference and waved Dean over with his vegetable peeler. "I have peeled one hundred and fifty two apples. My hands are wrinkled and sticky from my exertions." He held them up for inspection, looking serious. Dean's eyes glazed over for a moment, as his mind took a scenic detour after hearing the words sticky and exertion in such close proximity to each other.  
The three girls looked at each other. One girl, a brunette in sexy-nerd glasses, spoke up. "Is this Dean?"  
Dean's mind dragged it's spent self reluctantly back to reality. Cas smiled at her, then turned a proud smile on Dean. "Yes. _This_ is Dean."  
Dean's posture softened a little, realizing Cas had been talking about him while they'd been apart. He came and stood beside Cas, leaning against him, and ruffled his hair, feeling himself relax. He smiled back.  
"You ready to go, Cas? … It's not just _the ladies_ that were handsy…"  
The blonde with a sweet, cherubic face gave a surprisingly wicked laugh. "Why do you think _we're_ in here?"  
"Go on, Cas. We've got enough apples now. You go home with your boy and remember what we told you." The girls looked at each other and smiled. It was creepy. Just what Dean needed - Cas taking sex tips from sorority girls. He _knew_ how depraved they could be. He hoped they hadn't corrupted Cas… He didn't even sound convincing to _himself_.  
Finally, the previously silent brunette spoke, with a gleam in her eye, "Merry Christmas, Dean."

-oOo-

Heading back to Sam's in the Impala, Dean tried to get Cas to confess what the girls had been teaching him. All he would say was "You'll see soon enough, Dean."  
"Were you okay in your kitchen, Cas?"  
"Yes, thank you, Dean. And you?"  
"I don't know… I felt bad, you know? I tried to listen and be sympathetic and stuff like Sam does, but the wandering eyes… and the hands! I mean - I know they gotta take it where they can get it - but jeez! I tried to be friendly, but that is _not_ what I signed up for! It was hard. I wanted to yell at them, but then they look all sad, and tell you how lonely they are. And they seemed to _like_ the threats."  
"At least they _appreciated_ you. I was relegated to a back room."  
"Yeah, with the _others_ that needed protecting from straying hands."

  
When they were buzzed up to Sam's apartment Dean thought he could hear the sounds of a loud party coming from up the stairs. He exchanged a concerned look with Cas.  
Dean knocked on the door loudly. A curvy redhead in a long sweater, pretending it was a dress, answered the door. The noise that rolled out of the apartment was astounding. The room was full of ridiculously good-looking people, talking and laughing loudly. Their perfection made Dean feel like a bow-legged, midget troll. Dean looked at the door and checked they were, in fact, at the right apartment. The redhead laughed and kissed them each on the cheek, holding the door open. "The more the merrier!"  
Dean raised his eyebrows at Cas and shrugged, stepping into the apartment. Cas followed. The girl turned her back to them and bellowed, "SAM! More guests!" Then turned back to Dean and Cas with a big hostess smile. "See you later!"  
Dean watched her, perplexed, and mesmerized by the potential for her derriere to be revealed by the tiny dress. Cas tugged at his elbow. Dean turned his body towards Cas, his eyes still following the redhead, until he felt Cas turn his head with his fingers on his jaw.  
"Dean."  
"What? I was just…"  
Cas gave him a sweet, tender kiss.  
"What was that for?"  
Cas pointed upwards and Dean followed his pointing finger to see the tiny sprig of mistletoe pinned over the door. He grinned and kissed Cas back, holding his face with both hands. Cas looked adorably pleased with himself.  
"That is what the girls in the kitchen were teaching me. The traditions of Christmas," Cas admitted, his eyes shining as he gazed at Dean.  
He looked cute. Dean felt like a gargoyle in this room full of manufactured perfection, but Cas still shone. He stood out like an original work of art in a room full of black and white photocopies. Dean felt his heart swell.  
"Dean! Cas!" A hugely grinning Sam had found them. Dean grabbed him by the sleeve. "Dude, who are all these people?" Sam shrugged. "Work colleagues."  
Dean paused. Sam looked so happy. "What the hell do you _do_?"  
"Never mind that. How did the volunteer work go? Don't you feel more …Christmassy?" Sam was surprised to see an angry, uncomfortable look cross Dean's face.  
"…Dean? … _What did you do?"_  
"You're a dead man, Sam!"  
"What! Why?"  
When Dean told him the story, Sam burst into peals of laughter, holding his sides, bent at the waist. Dean had apparently been expecting a little sympathy and turned to Cas, looking aggrieved. Cas was smiling, with a twinkle in his eye. He patted Dean's shoulder, and had the good grace not to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This chapter was a joy to write. :D


	8. Cuddlus Interruptus

"All of these people are very attractive." Cas commented. "And tall."  
It was true. Dean was starting to feel like an ugly little pygmy and he was not used to that.  
"Anyone in particular catch your eye?" He asked Cas, too casually.  
"No." Cas admitted. Dean was unreservedly relieved by the simple answer. Cas' eyes softened at Dean's slump of relief. "Dean, I don't even _know_ these people. I know _you_. I'm deeply attached to _you_. These people are candles. You are a supernova. You ass."  
Dean grinned at that. "I'm an ass, huh?"  
"Yes. And a supernova at the same time; that's your appeal." Cas smiled deep into Dean's eyes. He felt Dean's fingers slide under the sleeve of his sweater to stroke his wrist repeatedly, with a smooth, slow rhythm.  
"Deeply attached, huh?"  
"Would you like me to put it _another_ way?"  
"No. 'Deeply attached' is good …What are you smiling at?"  
"Nothing," Cas lied. It was a good kind of lie.

  
"Winchester!" Dean jerked away from Cas with a start. Gabriel jumped into his field of vision. Dean huffed in irritation.  
"I brought you a surprise." Gabriel pointed behind Dean. Dean and Cas turned in unison, to see a beaming Bobby. Bobby stepped close and gave Dean a back-slapping hug. "How you been, boy?" He patted Dean's stomach as he stepped back. "Your angel's been looking after you. I reckon you've put on a few pounds." Dean scowled "I have not! Anyway we eat practically the same. If _I've_ put on pounds, so has _he_." Bobby chuckled. "I'm yankin' your chain, Dean." Dean snorted in annoyance and turned to Gabriel. "Was that _your_ idea, chuckles?" Gabriel smirked. "Maybe I'm rubbing off on him?" Castiel tried to distract them from arguing. "Is Balthazar here too?" Gabriel shook his head. "He has work to do. His boss is a real hard-case. So is mine actually. It's our busiest time of year - Everyone wants a miracle. Almost makes me _like_ the heathens. Call me when you're ready to leave, old man." He arched a brow, snapped is his fingers and was gone. Dean shook his head in disbelief. "What a douche."  
"Agreed. Where's your brother? We haven't had a chance to catch up yet." Bobby's eyes scanned the room at head height. "Never mind. I see him." Bobby slapped Dean's back and headed towards a knot of people in the kitchen area.

  
Dean and Cas found themselves on the couch alone, a calm island in a sea of people. Dean fell back against the couch. "This is not how I pictured the ideal Christmas." Cas leaned back beside him. "How did you picture it?" Cas' brows knit together in concern.  
"I don't know… more like in the movies, you know? Everyone enjoying the rare moment of peace, appreciating each other's company, everything being all _meaningful_ … and moving. I thought it'd be like old times. Me and Sam would teach you how to decorate the tree, Winchester-style. We'd get drunk and watch Christmas movies. Make memories."  
"We decorated the tree."  
"It was…- Well, true, we've _always_ had an ugly tree."  
"You got drunk."  
Dean smiled reminiscently. "Yeah. But you didn't join us."  
"I am happy to join you, but don't make me drink eggnog." Dean's smile shrank.  
"You don't like eggnog?"  
"No. But I liked visiting Sam, making decorations and choosing gifts. I liked helping strangers and I like mistletoe." Cas put his hand on Dean's knee and rubbed back and forth with his thumb. "I like having all of us under one roof without an emergency of some kind." Dean smiled shyly and leaned in towards Castiel, who leaned to meet him halfway.  
"Dean!" Sam rushed forward, coming to a skidding halt in front of them. Dean scrunched his eyes shut and sighed heavily. " _What_?"  
"We have a 'situation."  
Dean's eyes snapped open. Sam also had Cas' full attention.  
"A 'situation' ?"  
Sam gestured towards the front door, where Bobby squatted, soothing an upset little girl.

-oOo-

Dean wasn't sure what had happened, but the kid's brown eyes were anime-huge, and shiny with tears threatening to spill. Bobby was trying to comfort her, patting her brown-haired head. "It's okay, sweetheart. You came to the right place."  
She looked relieved to see Sam and stepped towards him. "You said if anything bad ever happened, we could come to you." Her large eyes were pleading. Sam nodded, "Yeah, I did. Where's your mom, Sophie?"  
"The scary man in the picture has her."  
"The scary man? In the picture?" Sam prompted. She nodded vigorously. "The clown man."  
Only Dean knew Sam well enough to notice the abrupt stillness at the mention of clowns. Sam turned to give Dean a beseeching look. Dean turned and raised a questioning eyebrow on Cas, who nodded.  
"We'll take care of it, Sammy." Some sense of brotherly protectiveness had cause Dean to use the old nickname. Sam nodded his agreement and didn't comment on it.  
Sam patted the girl's shoulder. "Its okay Soph. That's my brother and he's …" Sam looked at Dean, knowing how dangerous it was to make false promises. "He's gonna get your mom back."  
Cas clamped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "We should get our supplies."  
Dean locked eyes with Sam. "Keep everyone here and distracted. We don't need a crowd of sight-seers getting in the way." Sam nodded. Bobby came back with a drink for Sophie. "Here you go, kid. Have a seat and let the professionals do their job. You came to the right place."  
"You said that already," Sophie pointed out.  
"Well, you're a clever one, ain't you?" Bobby grimaced good-naturedly.  
Dean squatted down to Sophie's level. "Where was the clown? And your mom?"  
Sophie bit her lip. "In our apartment. In my room… I _told_ her I didn't want the creepy crying clown picture in my room!"  
Sam's face contorted in distaste and sympathy. He squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry, Soph. We'll get rid of the picture - I'll make sure of that."

-oOo-

Back in the guest room, Cas tucked his semi-automatic into the front of his jeans. They were on a job so Dean didn't take time to tease Cas about its small size, its slim girlish lines and lightweight polymer body. Cas never cared what Dean said about it. He had found he was more accurate with a lightweight pistol, and that might one day save Dean's life, so he ignored Dean's opinion. Cas put the EMF meter in one pocket and a small torch in another, while Dean hefted the shotgun and filled his pockets with rock salt rounds. "What do you think? Rakshasa? Spirit?"  
Cas shook his head. "I don't know. Best be prepared for anything." He pocketed matches, a water pistol of holy water, and a folding silver knife.  
"Dean…" Cas held out a small gift box with a blue bow tied around it.  
Dean frowned. "Is now the right time? Its a small job …You know we'll be fine, right?"  
Cas pressed his lips together, frustrated. "Just take it, Dean. It could be useful."  
Dean hesitated, but took the box, first putting the shotgun into the duffle bag. "Can I open it?"  
"Yes. It will be hard to use if you don't." Cas' mouth turned up at the edges.  
Dean pulled the blue ribbon off and tossed it aside onto the bed, doing the same with the lid. Inside was a folded knife. Dean carefully took it out of its blue velvet lined box and opened the blade. The light ran over the water-like moiré patterns of damascene steel.  
"It is hundreds of layers of tissue-thin, hand-forged iron and steel. It's very strong and very flexible." Cas explained.  
"I know what it is, Cas." Dean interrupted shortly. "It's… how did you get this? Hardly anyone makes these any more." He stroked the matt black ceramic handle.  
"Sam helped me find it on the internet. He kept it for me."  
Dean carefully stroked the sides of the blade. It felt like satin. He closed it with a 'snick'. He looked at it in his hand for a moment before pocketing it.  
"Come 'ere." Cas stepped closer, a little uncertain if Dean liked the gift or not. Dean tugged him into a strong embrace. "It's a work of art. I love it," he murmured into Cas' hair, still tightly squeezing the air out of him. Cas hugged him back.  
"I'm glad. It contains iron, so will be good against incorporeal beings, like ghosts. And its sharpness should be enough against anything  
corporeal."  
Dean stepped back and patted Cas on the chest. "That's my Cas. Always thinking."


	9. A Missing Clown

Sam's mouth widened in a smile. "You two are like that O. Henry story, The Gift of the Magi." He received two blank looks for his pains. Sam threw his arms up. "Dean, do you teach him anything that isn't on TV?"  
" _He_ can learn things on his own. And he's _right here_ ," Cas pointed out crossly.  
"While I was hiding _your_ present for Dean, he had me hiding one for _you_. Dean?" Sam looked to Dean who nodded, granting permission.  
"We'll wait in the hall. I don't think we want all the guests to see it." Dean stepped out, motioning for Cas to follow. He leaned against the wall in the hallway, folding his arms and looked sideways at Cas.  
"Whatever took that kid's mom, don't take any risks, okay? And don't go all 'berserker' if I get injured."  
"Says the man who taught me to fight against impossible odds." Cas leaned against the wall beside Dean and stared at the floor.  
"Well, its not like you haven't taken orders from hypocrites before," Dean added.  
The look that Cas darted at him could have frozen moving water. "Lucky for you, I've had practise." He gave Dean a tight smile.  
"I would ask you not to indulge in guilt and self-recrimination if _I_ become injured."  
Dean's mouth curled up and he snorted, " _Indulge_?"  
The corner of Cas' mouth twitched. His eyes gleamed with humour as he continued to study the floor.  
Noise from the party flooded the hallway as Sam squeezed through a small gap and shut the door. He held something behind his back. Dean grinned at his arrival.  
"Cas, you're not going to believe it."  
Sam handed it to Dean who held it out to Cas. "Sorry, I didn't know how to wrap it. It's kind of an awkward shape." Cas _didn't_ believe it.  
It was a sword in a plain, brown, leather scabbard, with multiple leather straps hanging from it. Cas' hands reached for it without thinking. "I knew you'd like it," Dean smiled.  
"It's a back scabbard." He handed it over to Cas, who ran his hands over the smooth scabbard, to the leather braided hilt, and drew out the sword in a smooth motion.  
"It's well balanced," he commented, tilting his hand up and down. He jabbed with it, lunged and wove patterns with it in the air. He could hear the faint hiss it made slicing through the air.  
"Here, put it on." Dean waved his hands at Cas, offering to help him slide on the scabbard and adjust the straps.  
"You just want him to look more like John Constantine," Sam grinned, as the sword was put back in the scabbard.  
"He doesn't wear a sword on his back." Cas corrected a surprised Sam. Dean smirked smugly at Sam.  
"Cas doesn't dress like him anymore anyway. See, we _have_ been learning stuff."  
"And yet you've never heard of O. Henry. You need to go easy on the 'pop' and focus more on the 'culture'."  
Cas slid on the shoulder straps and waited patiently while Dean adjusted buckles and tugged at the straps. "Not too tight?" he asked. Cas shook his head and reached back for the sword. It left the scabbard with an impressive metallic zinging sound. His mouth spread into a large smile.  
"Do I look …'bad-ass'?"  
Dean barked a loud laugh. "Hell yeah, you do!" Cas enjoyed Dean's enthusiasm.  
Sam slapped them both on the back.  
"I'm leaving, before you two start making out like horny teenagers. Be careful guys. Phone me if you need me."  
Sam gave Cas and Dean a tight-lipped nod before he closed the door on them.

"Thank you, Dean. I like it _very_ much." Cas couldn't stop smiling. This was a weapon and fighting style that came naturally to him. It made him happy to know Dean was not just trying to teach him how to live as a human, but wanted him to remain himself at the same time. Dean gave his shoulder a squeeze and allowed himself to have a teeny-tiny, never-to-be-admitted, chick-flick moment.  
Cas gingerly tested the sharpness of the blade with this thumb and found out, the hard way, that it was indeed extremely sharp.

-oOo-

Dean carried the shotgun in his hands, cradled against his chest. He concentrated on not getting distracted by how ridiculously great Cas looked with his sword strapped to his lean back, even over a stupid sweater. Cas carried the EMF meter and scouted ahead. The whine of the meter intermittently peaked and dropped as the needle veered erratically.  
"Something has been here, Dean."  
The hallway lights flickered ominously causing Cas and Dean to glance at each other in silent communication. Something had been  
there - or still was.  
"It doesn't make sense," Cas mused. "A rakshasa would have killed by now, and other clown-like spirits generally attract and steal the child, not the parent."  
Dean smiled tensely. "It wouldn't be a Winchester Christmas if it was easy, Cas."  
Castiel nodded and kept his vision trained ahead. His eyes were attracted to an unusual substance glistening in equally spaced patches on the floor. He stopped and crouched to look at one. He took the silver knife from his pocket, flicking it open in a way that made Dean forget to breathe for a moment. Cas scraped at the substance with the blade and gestured ahead. "There is a trail… look."  
Cas held the silver blade up to the light. The substance was thick and reddish, but wasn't blood. Cas rubbed it between his fingers and sniffed it. Dean quickly interjected, "I swear, Cas. If you taste that, you will never touch these lips again."  
Cas pursed his lips and ignored Dean's jibe. "It appears to be mud or clay. These could be footprints." Cas' tone was thoughtful. "But we're in an urban environment…. I haven't seen any red soil like this in the area."  
"So do we follow the prints? Keep going to the apartment? Or split up and do both?" Dean speculated.  
Cas shook his head. "No splitting up. We don't know what we're dealing with yet." Dean tilted his head in agreement.  
"Fair enough. Let's keep going to the apartment then. The footprints might not be related."

It soon became apparent that the footprints led away from Sophie's apartment.  
The apartment door stood open. Dean pointed at himself and pointed at the doorway, then motioned at the gun tucked at Cas' waist, pointed at his own eyes and the doorway again. Cas nodded, pulled out the gun and quietly thumbed the safety off.  
A part of Dean's brain filed away how hot that was, for future reference. The rest of his mind concentrated on ensuring neither one of them got killed. He nodded and squatted, poking his head into the room at knee height. All was still and semi-dark.  
There was a lamp on in the lounge area, casting shadows from the large couch, covered in nubbly brown polyester fabric. It looked ugly but comfortable. The footprints seemed to get fainter towards the back of the apartment, which didn't make sense. Even more perplexing; there were prints leading out, but none leading in. Dean frowned at the prints and glanced at Cas, who motioned towards the bedrooms with his chin. Dean nodded and led the way.  
They looked into the mother's room. No footprints entered here, but there were clothes strewn everywhere; dresses were pulled from hangers and lacy lingerie was sprinkled liberally. Dean raised an eyebrow. If he was any judge (and who was he kidding - he was) most of what had been spilled from the drawers was the 'special occasion' stuff. Other than that there was no sign of struggle or violence. They moved silently on towards the only room left - Sophie's room.  
Cas poked his head around the door frame. He locked and put away his gun and drew the sword, quietly stepping into the room, followed closely by Dean. Cas turned to check behind the door while Dean peered under the bed. Dean also prodded at the closed drapes. Nothing. He and Cas locked eyes and edged warily towards the built-in wardrobe. Dean put his hand on the door handle and mouthed "Three, two, one," then yanked the door open as Cas held the sword, ready to both attack or defend. Nothing. The wardrobe was piled with soft toys, games,  
sports equipment and the child's clothing. Dean's shoulder's lost some of their tension.  
"Well, that was disappointing."  
Cas shook his head. "I disagree." Dean grinned. "You _would_."  
Cas was distracted by something behind Dean. "Dean, look."  
He gestured, and Dean turned, to see a framed picture on the wall. It had a simple, cheap wooden frame, surrounding dingy grey scenery. A ferris wheel, a tent, some balloons. All were in blues and greys, as though sun-bleaching had worn away the reds and yellows. The bottom of the frame glistened with goo. Clear slime dripped down the wall below the frame. The footprints started here.  
There was no clown.


	10. Send in the Clown

Cas put the sword back in its scabbard and took out the EMF meter. He pointed it at the empty painting in its coarse wooden frame. The meter whined rhythmically but weakly. "There is some kind of residual energy here."  
Dean prodded gingerly, with a crayon from Sophie's desk, at the strings of clear slime hanging down the wall from the picture.  
"That's not the only residue. What _is_ this stuff?"  
Cas stood beside him and leaned in for a closer look, sniffing it carefully. Dean turned to stare at him. Cas raised his eyebrows quizzically. "What?"  
"Sometimes I forget how different you are. And then you remind me." He smiled and rested a hand on Cas' back to take any sting from the comment. Cas stared back at him for a moment before turning back to inspect the goo. "You _like_ it," he accused. Dean continued to smile to himself and made no comment.  
Cas put out a finger and poked the goop.  
"Dude! Don't _touch_ it! Jeez! That could be anything! It could be acid! It could be… alive and steal your shape -"  
Cas straightened up and wiped his finger on Dean's jacket with a deceptively mild expression.  
"It's ectoplasm, Dean."  
"Like ghost goobers?" Dean glared at him and tried to brush the residue off, but only succeeded in smearing it around. Dean frowned thoughtfully at the empty picture. He turned the frame over. "Well, would you _look_ at _that_." There was a vaguely familiar symbol drawn on the back in thick, black marker. Dean pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the symbol, sending it to Sam.  
"I think I've seen this before." Dean was pretty sure it was the same as the one he and Sam had found in that haunted house they'd had to burn down in Texas. The spirit had kept changing, because the symbol had made whatever people believed in, come true, and people had believed whatever was written on that crazy Ghost-Chasers' website, or whatever they called themselves.  
"It's Sanskrit," Cas supplied. "It's a symbol for focussing psychic energy into a physical manifestation."  
If anyone else had said those words, Dean would have assumed they were showing off, but with Cas it was just sharing of knowledge. He squeezed Cas' shoulder.  
"I love it when you talk nerdy, Cas."  
Dean was distracted by the ringing of his phone. "Yeah?"  
"Tulpa, Dean. You could be dealing with a tulpa. A physical manif-"  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I have the walking Wikipedia with me." He glanced at Cas with a half smile.  
"Well, here's something you may not know." Sam continued. "I've been talking to Sophie and she says the picture was a gift to her mom from a local kid who baby-sits for her sometimes. His name is Travis. Wait…. Sophie says he has a crush on her mom."  
"Well, that might explain the ladies' under-things all over the bedroom. If he's been here … sleazy - but natural for a teenaged boy. I have to go, Sam. Cas has that look. Either he needs to poop or he's had an epiphany."  
Sam smiled even as Dean hung up in his ear. Only Cas could have Dean using words like 'epiphany'.  
"We need to follow where these footprints lead, Dean. I think I know what happened, but I'm not sure how a mere boy managed it."

-oOo-

They followed the increasingly muddy footprints through hallways and down stairwells. When they reached the gloomy basement of the old building Dean just groaned. "Of course," he whispered to Cas "Its _always_ a basement or a warehouse."  
Cas half-smiled and shrugged. He tried to never assume anything. He was used to being surprised by people.  
They heard a clang up ahead. Dean nodded towards the sound and led the way. Cas stalked behind him, sword in hand. They could hear a male voice ahead, then a hesitant female answer.  
Dean peered carefully around the doorway into what looked like the furnace room of the old building.  
Cas joined him. They saw a strange tableau.  
A woman in a clingy evening dress was seated on a crate. Some more crates were piled into a table under a white table cloth. There was a lit red candle on the table and two dinner settings of plates, cutlery and glasses. There was an unopened bottle of red wine next to the candle.  
The woman picked daintily and nervously at the pasta on her plate. Dean could see the resemblance to Sophie in her hair colour, nose and eyes. Opposite her was a tall, lanky teen in a cheap suit and tie. Dean cringed at the grey polyester jacket.  
Cas touched his elbow and gestured with his chin to the other, darker end of the room. Standing in the dark, unmoving, was what looked like an unbaked terracotta statue of a body builder with a clown's head.  
It reminded Dean of the kid's flip books that let you mix and match the different body parts, so you could have ballerina legs, with a doctor's torso and a fire-fighter's head. Only this one had a huge body builder's legs and torso, with a tiny clown's head. There was definitely a bulky body under the ruffled, clay, clown suit.  
"What the hell is that?" Dean whispered raising his brows.  
"It's a golem."  
Cas' explanation was no explanation to Dean. "A what?"  
"A servant made of clay, animated by the creator's force of will. I think he used the picture as a focal point, making the golem manifest in their home, then used it to bring the woman here."  
"Well, that's just creepy. He's one messed up wizard."  
"Dean," Cas whispered, "he's just a child. Maybe we can talk to him."  
Dean shook his head. "Sure, he looks like a kid, but so did Lilith at first, and how does a kid know how to make a goalie… a golly… a clay robot?" At the look on Cas' face, Dean modified his approach. "Okay. I promise to ask questions first and shoot later." Cas nodded at the compromise. Dean rubbed Cas' back for a brief second. "Don't lower your guard, Cas." Cas nodded again. "You either, Dean." Dean smiled, reading between the lines. "Okay."  
Dean took a breath and stepped out into the candlelight.  
"Hey, this looks real cosy," Dean drawled.  
The boy jumped from his seat. "Sit down," Cas continued "we're not here to harm you."  
The woman stared at them with fear. Dean held his hands up. "Its okay. Sam sent us."  
She looked relieved at the explanation. "Is Sophie okay?"  
"She is fine. She is with Sam right now." Cas replied.  
The boy stood again and raised his voice turning to the massive statue of wet clay "Seize them!"  
He pointed at Cas and Dean.  
The slurping noise the statue made as it moved was obscene. It took a slow step towards them and ponderously swung a massive arm at them. "Is that all you've got?" Dean smirked. He aimed a kick at one of the massive clay legs. His foot stuck. A brief flicker of a childhood story ran through his mind, something about a tar baby. "Oh crap."  
The huge arm connected with his head, slapping against it wetly, then wrapped around it and engulfed it. It was like being buried alive in a clay pit. It smelled kind of fresh and earthy, which wasn't completely unpleasant - except for the lack of oxygen. Everything was muffled and he lashed out, his fists hitting wet mud. It didn't feel like he was doing any damage.  
"Dean!" He heard Cas' muffled cry. Suddenly his head could move, although it was still encased in clay. He reached up and clawed the clay away from his face, taking a huge, clean breath. He saw Cas hacking pieces from the golem as he backed it into the corner that housed the glowing red furnace. There was a hissing, sizzling sound as the golem backed right up against the furnace.  
"No!" Dean turned towards the cry and saw the boy make an aborted reach towards Cas and the golem, but he stopped, as Sophie's mom trained Dean's shotgun at his chest. "Just give me one more reason, Travis. I swear I _will_ shoot you."  
Every time the golem made a move, Cas hacked another piece away. Finally, it took a step forwards, only for its leg to snap at the knee, dried from the heat of the furnace. The same happened when it tried to move its arm. Then all at once, cracks appeared all over it and it cascaded to the ground in a heap of clay rubble.  
Cas poked the rubble with his boot, and jumped back, when it instantly dissolved into clear slime.  
"Ugh!" The clay covering Dean had also turned to clear, slimy ectoplasm.  
He tried to wipe the disgusting material from his eyes. He looked up to see Cas limping a little and bleeding from his thigh. He hurried over and put his slimy shoulder under Cas' arm to take some of the weight.  
"Cas! What happened? Sit down. Is it deep? Should I call Sam?"  
Cas shook his head, grimacing. "Dean. Its just superficial."  
"You sure?" Dean's steadying arm around Cas' back tightened. Cas looked into his eyes and answered very seriously. "Yes."  
"Alright then." Dean lowered him gingerly onto one of the crates. Then turned to Sophie's mom and snatched his shot gun back, adding belatedly, "I'll have my gun back now, thanks." He turned his attention to the boy. "You. Have a lot of explaining to do. And if I don't like the answers - you have some dying to do."  
The boy sighed melodramatically and threw his arms up. "What's the point? Just shoot me. I'm going to die a virgin either way."  
Dean scrunched his brow. "Seriously? _That's_ what this is about? How was kidnapping the nice lady working out for you?"  
"Fine! You saw! She was here. We were having dinner…"  
Sophie's mom made a scornful noise at the back of her throat.  
"She finally respected me!"  
"Kid, that is so fu- " Cas cut Dean off.  
"Dean. Let me." Dean hesitated, but finally nodded. "Okay, but one false move and I perforate him." Cas smiled "Perforate?"  
He turned back to the boy who sat slumped on one of the crates. "She didn't respect you. She feared you. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about." Dean's heart clenched a little and he felt the urge to comfort Cas, but now wasn't the time. Cas was like some kind of magnet for chick-flick moments.  
"So? Isn't it the same thing?" The boy raised his head and glared at Castiel challengingly.  
"No. It is very different. Fear can never become love. Respect, on the other hand, might one day grow into love." Dean felt a small flare of pride at Cas' words.  
The boy sneered, "Pff! Love? I just want to get laid!"  
Dean groaned. "Oh for Christ's sake! Save up some money and hire a hooker, you moron!"  
Cas frowned in thought. "That brings me to another question. How did you manifest a golem?"  
"I bought a book on the internet and I practised."  
Cas, Dean and Sophie's mom all had their eyebrows raised towards their hairlines.  
"Just like that? With practise?" Dean asked.  
"Sure. I figured, if I can learn algebra and quadratic equations, then I can learn to concentrate my thoughts and do this." He shrugged. "All you need is concentration and absolute intent. Oh, and the right incantation on a piece of paper that you put into the golem's mouth - kind of like a start-up program."  
Dean ran a hand over his face, then wiped the slippery goo from it onto his jeans. "Here's the thing, kid. You're young, you still have a chance. You're smart so you can be anything, do anything, that you want to. Don't become a super villain. You'll never get laid. Become rich. That's my advice. And then get a vasectomy if you don't want every little gold digger claiming you're her child's daddy."  
Sophie's mom had her mouth open in an O of horror. "Oh my _god_! That is _so cynical_."  
Cas quirked a brow at Dean, who lifted a hand in a gesture that meant they'd discuss it later.  
The boy grinned. "Alright! That sounds like awesome advice!"  
"I'll go one better, kid. I will take you to a party right now, where you can meet a whole gaggle of model-types. Maybe one of them will think you're cute and take pity on you."  
"Sweet!"  
"And if you ever try something like this again - I will kill you. Stone cold. Got it?"  
Travis nodded his head energetically. "Where's this party at?"

-oOo-

Cas leaned heavily against Dean as Dean helped him take the stairs. "Dean, I'm not sure turning him into a greedy, money-grubbing, lothario was the best idea. "  
Dean shrugged. "Still better than a magic-wielding psycho-rapist, wouldn't you say?"  
Cas sighed loudly. "I suppose."  
"You can't turn him into a responsible adult overnight, Cas. Baby steps. Today he aims to get laid. One day he will, and he'll wonder why he was so hung up on it. In the meantime, his intelligence and energy need to be focussed on less damaging pursuits than building clay soldier's and kidnapping his neighbours for his own nefarious purposes."  
Cas' hand strayed into Dean's back pocket. "Mmm. Nefarious. Four syllables."  
Dean quirked a brow at Cas. "What do you think you're doing?"  
"Positive reinforcement."  
Dean tried not to smile. "You're not allowed to stay up late and discuss psychology with Sam any more. You already tried to use 'removal of privileges' on me."  
"Ah, yes. Threatening to sleep on the couch…it worked. I promise positive reinforcement will be much more fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ’Everybody Hates Hitler’ aired 6 February 2013. I originally posted this on FanFic.Net on 19 December 2011 and completed it 30 March 2012. We have different takes on the Golem idea.


	11. Sam and Dean secretly admire each other

Cas and Dean passed party-goers in the hallway, leaving in twos and threes. Dean was pretty sure the staring was because of his slime-plastered appearance, but it might have been the blood soaking Cas' jeans that was grabbing their attention.  
He grabbed at one of the leggy female party-goers, who recoiled with a cry of "Hey! This is dry-clean only!"  
"Sorry. Listen, can you tell me something? What is it Sam does exactly?"  
She eyed him suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"  
"I'm his brother, Dean… "  
She looked him over. "Really? His brother? You don't look alike."  
"He eats salads and tofu burgers, thinks new archaeological discoveries are orgasmic and believes clowns are the instrument of the devil."  
"Okay. So you're his brother." She bit a polished nail and paused thoughtfully.  
"Well, he does a bit of this and a bit of that. He's kind of a problem-solver and handyman. He's real kind and polite to everyone. Sometimes he works security if one of the guys is away sick, and once he worked behind the bar when we had a two-for-one night and were crazy busy. I haven't caught him repairing any of the costumes yet, but I bet he could," she mused thoughtfully.  
"So he's not a pimp." Dean grinned. Her laugh was musical and genuinely amused.  
"Lord, no! We're dancers, not hookers! We've been trying to convince him for months that he should go on stage himself, but he won't even consider it. He's hot enough…" She trailed off with a glazed look.  
It was Dean's turn to be genuinely be amused. "That's rich. Sam's as good a dancer as I am a diplomat."  
"I don't think I'd care," she admitted. She winked at them, waved her fingers and continued down the stairs.  
Dean turned to Cas. "Strippers. That son of a bitch," he said in admiration.

-oOo-

Sam opened his door, grinning in relief. "Dean!… What the hell happened to you?"  
He noticed the blood seeping through the slash in Cas' jeans. "Oh! Hey, in the bathroom. First aid kit."  
"Thanks Sam. I got it." Dean patted Sam's shoulder grinning, as he helped Cas towards the bathroom. Sam watched him confused for a moment, but shrugged it off. He turned back to the others. "Hey, Laura." His eyes travelled over the slinky, red dress. "You look great. You okay?"  
"Momma!" Sophie launched herself at her mother. Laura squeezed Sophie in a tight hug. "I am now. Thanks for coming through, Sam. Thank your friends for me."  
"I will. And who is this?" Sam eyed the lanky teen warily.  
"I'm Travis. Dean said I could come to the party…" Travis held out a bottle of red wine as a gift. Sam took it, looking uncertain. He felt a tap on his shoulder and his eyebrows shot up in surprise when he turned to find Gabriel had suddenly appeared, smiling lopsidedly at him and growling under his breath.  
"Leave him with me. He fits my profile: Douche-bag that needs a lesson." Gabriel gave a predatory smile and lay his arm across the boy's shoulders.  
"Come with me kid. I'll teach you a thing or two."  
Travis raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Just so you know - I'm not into dudes."  
Gabriel's stride paused for only a fraction of a second. "Tell me, Travis, Travieso, Travmeister. Have you ever seen The Crying Game? No? Such a shame."  
Sam watched them walk away. His life was weird. He stared at the room, full of such disparate people talking, eating and dancing and he felt … good. Everyone he wanted to spend Christmas with was here, and safe. Sure there were a few people here he didn't care too much about, one way or the other. For example, jerk-vibes had come off Travis like steam off a New York street, so Sam had let Gabriel take charge of him. He saw Bobby being surprisingly sociable with Gabriel and Travis. They began an animated conversation. Sam shook his head, smiling. You could never predict what was going to happen when Gabriel was involved. If anyone could talk sense into Travis, it was Bobby. Laura was in the kitchen alcove, finding food for Sophie, who was making a face of disgust at the olives she was being offered. Sam realised he loved living around normal people again.  
He watched frowning, as Dean helped a limping Cas to the bathroom and felt some tension creep back into his shoulders. He knew that look. The one that used to lead Dean to irresponsible amounts of alcohol, followed by recriminations, based on barely missed close calls and the fear they left in their wake. Sam's instinct was to intervene, to smooth things over. He fought the instinct hard.  
Dean didn't need Sam looking out for him any more. Cas and Dean would work it out themselves. He headed to the kitchen to help Laura find something that Sophie might like better than olives.

-oOo-

After getting rid of his slimy shirt, Dean knelt down, held Cas' bare leg across his lap and examined the cut.  
"You're right. It's not too bad. It won't need stitches. I'll just clean it and patch it up. Don't worry - chicks dig scars."  
Cas looked up at Dean from under a confused brow. Dean realized what he'd just said and snorted. He took a sterile plastic vial of saline solution from the first aid kit and snapped it open, pouring it on the cut to cleanse it. Cas breathed in sharply and clenched a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean placed a hand over Cas'. "You good?" Cas nodded.  
Dean placed some gauze over the cut and stuck it down with a waterproof breathable bandage. Cas avoided his gaze and said "You're worried."  
Dean was silent while he stroked Cas' calf. "Cas." He kneeled in front of Cas and tangled his fingers into Cas' hair. Cas looked up with serious and vulnerable eyes when Dean gave his hair a gentle tug. "Be more careful. Please." Cas rested his forehead against Dean's and sighed quietly. "I'm just as careful as you are, Dean." Dean's mouth curved humorlessly at the corners. "I'm a terrible role model."  
"Yes, you are," Cas agreed, and kissed him. He pulled away and smiled, cupping Dean's cheek in his hand.

-oOo-

Cas finally emerged from the bathroom in track pants and an old t-shirt, limping, while Dean stayed in the bathroom to shower off the goo.  
Cas ended up alone on the couch, surrounded by Sam's remaining co-workers, grinding and gyrating enthusiastically against each other to some repetitive, percussive music, while he looked on, exhausted and confused.  
He gazed longingly at the bathroom door, in time to see Dean come out in clean jeans and a flannel shirt, rubbing a towel over his hair. He cast Dean a pleading look. Dean threw his towel back into the bathroom, leaving his hair a spiky mess. He navigated his way through the dancers and flopped onto the couch next to Cas. Cas leaned against him and closed his eyes, exhaling his relief loudly. "I never know what to do in social gatherings. I'm exhausted and my leg hurts," he complained tiredly.  
Dean stretched an arm across the back of the couch and massaged the back of Cas' neck. His lips curved into a smile as he watched the pinched corners of Cas' mouth relax. He wasn't usually one for public displays, but when those naked eyes opened and looked right into him, it was too hard to resist.  
The way they fitted together when they kissed thrilled Dean each time. The way Cas' nose rubbed against his and Cas just fell into their kisses, like they had no separation. Dean started to forget where they were, who else was here. He felt Cas' leg overlap his, trying to get closer. Cas' tongue traced details in his mouth carefully. Dean cradled his head and chased the taste of him deeper. They should probably stop now, while they could still think straight. He gently pulled away from Cas' moist mouth. He could feel Cas ribs swell with each breath. He brushed a thumb over one of the dark smudges starting to appear under Cas' eyes. Cas seemed content to stare at him with a curl of a smile on his  
lips. "The way you respond to me is intoxicating," Cas said quietly. Dean rested his cheek against Cas, still and calm.

-oOo-

Sam turned down the music to try to encourage the last few revellers to go home. He lurked near the kitchen cleaning up while surreptitiously watching Cas and Dean. He admired their closeness and their relaxed intimacy. He was also intensely jealous. Not that he would ever begrudge Dean the one slice of happiness in his life. It wasn't like that. Sam just wished he had that in his own life again. It still stung to think he'd had it once and had it taken from him. He had the kind of heart that couldn't help hoping, and getting attached, even if he knew there were risks.  
But not Dean. Dean had always been about staying apart, keeping clear, being detached. Seeing Dean with Cas was still a revelation, every time. He was still very 'Dean' with jokes and grins, but there was none of the evasiveness and defensive bravado he'd displayed when flirting in bars and clubs in the past.  
Instead there was the persistent non-verbal communication that Cas and Dean always had, only now it included a lot of understated, but decidedly intimate, touching.  
He'd known Dean as a winking, whistling, smirking jerk. It was all part of the Dean Winchester Man-Whore Myth. But the hair-stroking, back-rubbing, endearment-murmuring Dean was a totally different person. It would have been weird, except Cas returned Dean's open smiles and wallowed in it all, like a puppy in clover, so they sort of fit. And it was Christmas, so why shouldn't they be happy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to be rushing out the chapters, but I will be away without regular access to internet soon and don't want to leave you all in suspense.


	12. The Party's Over

Bobby couldn't understand why he always ended up with strays. He shook his head at Travis. Gabriel vocalized Bobby's thoughts "Chicks don't dig black magic as much as you'd think, kid."  
Travis looked skeptical. "Aw, really?" Gabriel and Bobby both nodded with certainty.

-oOo-

Laura held out a ceramic dish covered in foil. "I went home and got some dessert," She explained. Sophie clung to her and stared at Sam with a seriousness beyond her years. Laura's free hand gripped Sam's wrist.  
"Do you think you could help me set up some kind of security? I don't like to think about how unprepared I was for this kind of …invasion. I mean, you know, the weird stuff. Do I need garlic? Holy water? Silver bullets? What else is out there? Is Travis … safe?" Sam knew it wasn't Travis' safety she was referring to. He nodded.  
"I can show you a few things. Protective devices. What to look out for."  
"Thank you. I'm afraid to let Sophie out of my sight now. But I have to go to work sometimes when she's home and now I have no babysitter. And I'm not sure I could trust another one for a while…"  
Sam looked at little Sophie's huge eyes as she chewed nervously on a hank of brown hair.  
"I'll do it," Sam was surprised to hear himself say. "I mean, my hours are pretty flexible. I don't have a lot of experience with entertaining little girls, but I guess kids are kids, right?" He felt Sophie lean against him and looked down to see her smiling.  
Laura chuckled, making Sam cringe. "I sound like a creeper, don't I?"  
"A little. But you said - if we were ever in trouble we could come to you. And you came through. So I accept your appointment as casual baby sitter. You know I can't pay you much, right?"  
"Laura, if you try to pay me, I'll be offended… I'll ask you for one favor though. No more clown pictures, okay?"  
" _Hello_!" Gabriel had suddenly made himself noticed, by taking Laura's hand from Sam's arm and bowing over it. She gave Sam a concerned look.  
"Uh, Gabriel this is Laura. This is our …friend, Gabriel. He's _mostly_ harmless, but partial to dessert." Sam smiled apologetically as Gabriel stole the covered dish from her hand.  
"Gabe, put the dessert in the fridge! Do _not_ eat it." Sam called after him.  
Sam squatted down to Sophie's height. "Make sure he puts it in the fridge, okay?" She nodded seriously and ran after Gabriel who was already peeling the covering off the dish on the way to the kitchen, and waving with two spoons in his hand for Sophie to hurry over.

-oOo-

Sam steered Laura to the couch where Cas and Dean were wedged together. "I think you've met my brother Dean. This is our friend, Cas, and over there with Travis is our…uncle, Bobby."  
"There's a lot of testosterone in your family," she commented, raising a brow. "You're all single?" she asked under her breath.  
"Uh…" Sam looked at Dean nervously. Dean shrugged. He wasn't going to help Gigantor out of his awkward social situation.  
"No. Bobby's a widower. Dean and Cas are kind of … together."  
"There is no 'kind of'." Cas corrected. Dean's smile widened.  
"Oh," Laura smiled at them and looked at Sam, brows raised questioningly. "And you…?"  
Dean suddenly felt very much like helping. "Oh, he's _very_ unattached right now."  
Sam looked mortified.  
"And there is mistletoe over the door," Cas suggested. Dean turned to him, "Cas! _So_ not subtle!"  
Cas slowly shook his head. " 'He's _very_ unattached right now'," Cas imitated Dean's tone. "I learned all my social skills from _you_ , Dean."  
Laura laughed. "You guys are adorable!"  
Sam's smugness was a tiny bit vindictive. "I know. _Aren't_ they just?"

-oOo-

Laura discovered that keeping Gabriel (and herself) out of the dessert had been a task beyond Sophie's capabilities. Pressed for the dessert recipe by Gabriel, Laura had admitted that it was just a layer of purchased chocolate chip cookie dough, a layer of canned caramel filling, a sprinkling of chocolate chips and a layer of marshmallows, before baking it on low for fifteen minutes. Gabriel thought it was pure genius and made everyone groan with nausea by suggesting it should be eaten with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream.

-oOo-

Sophie had slowly edged her way closer to the couch Cas and Dean occupied. Finally she leaned against the armrest on Cas' side. "You have funny eyes," she declared.  
Cas considered this carefully. "I believe they're considered normal by most people."  
Dean leaned forward to see past Cas and answered, "It's not his eyes. It's the _way_ he looks at you." She nodded quickly in agreement. Dean's lips curved victoriously at Cas.  
Sophie climbed onto the couch next to Cas, where they proceeded to stare at each other unnaturally. She finally crashed from her dessert-induced sugar high and fell asleep with her head against Cas' arm. Dean stretched his arm along the back of the couch and hugged Cas' shoulder.  
"You're not getting broody, are you?" Cas rolled his head in Dean's direction.  
"If I understand your meaning correctly, I don't think so. I do feel protective towards children. This one is … odd. But I like her honesty."  
Dean brought his hand down next to Cas' and twined their fingers together.  
"Sounds like someone else I know."

-oOo-

Bobby, rapidly running out of 'give-a-damn', helped get rid of the last of Sam's guests.  
"Thanks for comin'. Merry Christmas." He shut the door after the last drunken reveller. "Jackass."

There was a knock on the door almost immediately. Bobby yanked it open muttering a curse. Sam stood there smiling sheepishly.  
"Sorry, Bobby. I was just dropping Laura and Sophie home."  
"I know. Saw you carrying the kid. I thought you were that Travis again. As the Lord is my witness, I wanted to beat that idjit into submission. How many more years of experience have I got? You'd think - having actually _been_ in a relationship with a woman- I might have some valuable insight. I'd forgotten what teenaged boys can be like." He scowled at Sam accusingly. He rubbed his bearded face as he slumped onto the couch in the empty space on the other side of Cas.  
Cas earned a nod of thanks when he handed Bobby a beer. Bobby propped his feet up on the old chest that served as a coffee table.  
"Thank Christ, this only happens once a year."


	13. Dean's gift

Sam sat cross-legged next to the hideous fibre-optic tree. He pulled a neatly wrapped package from under the tree.  
"Dean. For you."  
Dean was leaning back against the couch with his eyes closed. He opened one eye at Sam. "Who's it from?"  
The corner of Sam's mouth lifted in a smirk. "Well, I guess it's from Santa."  
Dean blew a disbelieving breath between his lips but took the gift that Sam passed to him. Dean unceremoniously ripped the paper wrapping down the middle and scrunched the wrapping into a ball as he scooped the gift out. It was a travel picture frame; two small, silver picture frames hinged together so they could stand up on a dresser like an open book. It contained two black and white pictures. One was of Sam and Dean with their dad when they were little. All three of them looked seriously into the camera. Dean guessed Bobby had taken the picture at his place, decades ago. The other was more recent, of Cas and Dean with their arms draped across each other's shoulders. Cas' face was turned  
towards Dean and scrunched in the beginnings of a laugh. Dean was looking into the camera smirking. Dean remembered Sam had said something funny and clever right before he'd taken that photo with his phone. It was grainy, but it had caught a rare moment when they'd all been happy. Dean rubbed his thumb over the frame. "Thanks…Santa."

Gabriel appeared suddenly out of thin air, startling Sam so much he almost fell flat on his back.  
"Doesn't anyone want to know what _my_ gift to you is?"  
Sam made a pouty bitchface and refused to answer. Instead he raised demanding eyebrows. Gabriel frowned.  
"Fine. I'll _tell_ you then." He snapped his fingers then gestured widely "Look around! The apartment is clean! No golem goo in the bathroom! No dishes in the sink! All their weapons back in the car. All Dean's dirty laundry, not lying in the shower in a damp mess, but clean and folded in his bag. You're _welcome_."  
Sam's pout dissolved. "Actually - that's pretty good… Thanks, Gabriel."  
Gabriel grinned lopsidedly. "Yeah, I'm awesome that way. You ready to go home, old man?"  
Sam stood up. "No, wait! We haven't given him his gift yet!"  
Bobby's brows rose and his mouth stretched into a thin line. "At my age, there's nothing I need that I don't already have."  
"Well too bad, 'cause we got you something," Dean held out a squishy, paper-wrapped package, tied with green garden twine.  
Gabriel leaned against the island that separated the kitchen from the lounge area. "I can wait."  
Bobby leaned out of his armchair, took the gift tentatively and looked at Dean expressionlessly for a moment before shaking the packet, squeezing it and sniffing it.  
Sam chuckled. "Just open it, Bobby."  
Bobby finally took a breath and tugged the string off. He unrolled the paper and a pair of grey mittens fell out.  
Dean turned to Cas with eyes wide in a disbelieving look. Cas glared back with lowered brows in a way that clearly told him not to judge. It was obvious to everyone in the room that Dean had let Cas purchase the gift, and it wasn't what Dean would have chosen. Cas turned back towards Bobby as he stooped to pick the mittens up.  
"The tops flip open, so you can use them if you go hunting, or need to do anything intricate," Cas explained.  
Bobby nodded and pulled one on, peeling the top of the mitten back and wriggling his fingers through the opening.  
"Nice. Real handy. No pun intended. Fleece lined too. Thanks, son." Cas smiled shyly and felt his face warm at the compliment of being considered family. He felt Dean give his waist a squeeze and squeezed back at Dean's knee.  
"This is for you, Cas." Sam passed a boxed gift. It was wrapped in textured grey tissue paper with a shiny matching bow.  
Dean snorted. "Did you do Santa's wrapping for him, Sam?"  
"Shut up, jerk." Sam responded automatically, but relaxed.  
It felt heavy to Cas. He gave it a tentative shake before pulling off the tape on the bottom and carefully sliding the box out of the wrapping. He read the box " 'Thermos travel mug. Coffee on the go, that stays hot.'" He gave Sam a wide smile. "Thank you, this is very thoughtful."  
"That's okay. Merry Christmas, Cas."  
Cas was already opening the lid, peering inside and playing with the sliding sip-opening of the cup.

Dean gracelessly tossed a blocky gift, wrapped in gaudy Christmas paper into Sam's lap "Here. That's yours."  
Sam didn't know what to say. It was obvious by the shortness of speech that Dean was feeling awkward. "Thanks."  
"Don't thank me yet. You don't know what it is."  
Sam tried not to smile as he opened the gift. It was a leather-bound journal, not unlike the one their father had kept, but empty and new; the leather still shiny and unscratched. The pages were unmarred by tears, blood, mysterious stains and coffee rings.  
"We started it off for you," Dean prompted.  
Sam turned to the first page, intrigued. In Dean's scrawly chicken scratching he could read 'Sam Winchester keeps a tape measure by the bed - so he can measure his sideburns every morning.' In Cas' more even script he read 'Not all those who wander are lost.' Sam wiped a hand over his mouth.  
"Oh god," Dean groaned "He's getting weepy."  
Sam swung the book in an arc, smacking Dean in the head. "Shut up, you jerk! This is really nice. Thank you." He took advantage of the fact that he was still standing, while Dean was seated on the couch, to put Dean in a headlock and mess up his hair before releasing him. Dean smoothed his hair down while scowling at Sam. Cas just watched them affectionately. He knew there was some kind of communication going on there, that he would never quite get the grasp of. He didn't have the shared history. Gabriel caught his eye and grinned, shrugging one shoulder.  
"Last one," Sam said pulling the last, large package from under the tree. He read the tag. "Dean. You're being spoiled. It's for you."  
Dean grinned and made grabbing motions at Sam without moving from his spot on the couch. He was too tired. Sam dropped the long bulky parcel into his lap and waited as Dean ripped into the wrapping.  
"Awesome! One of those huge pump-action water guns! I always wanted one of these!"  
Bobby, Gabriel and Sam looked at each other in surprise. Cas covered his face and groaned. "It's for work not play, Dean."  
"Nuh-uh! Look! Water balloons! Gabe? Is this from you?"  
Gabriel held up his hands proclaiming his innocence. "Don't look at _me_. I think this is Cas' idea."  
Dean turned to Cas. "This is really cool! They shoot for, like, hundreds of yards, with the high pressure. But I won't really be able to use it 'til summer- "  
" _Dean_." Cas held his face to focus his attention. "Holy. Water."  
"O-o-oh." Dean sat motionless for a second. "I love it. Genius." He leaned in and kissed Cas on the forehead.  
Gabriel chuckled, not so quietly, in his corner. "Come on, old man. That's our cue."  
Sam helped Bobby out of the deep armchair. "Next year, we're doing this at my place. I'm getting too old for all this travel."  
Dean was already at the kitchen sink, filling the Super-Soaker to test it out.

-oOo-  
Cas was embarrassed to find himself yawning widely. "Sorry."  
Cas gave another jaw-dislocating yawn, so Dean pulled him from the couch by the hand. "Bedtime for you, baby."  
He turned to Sam who was switching off the tree for the night. "Good night, Sam." He waved once and led a tired, docile Cas to the guestroom.  
Dean changed into his own sleep clothes, while surreptitiously watching Cas groggily change into his pyjamas, trying to gauge if now was a good time to give him a personally significant gift he'd chosen. Cas had climbed under the covers and was squirming around trying to get comfortable, without irritating his wound, before falling asleep, much like a dog turning in its basket.  
"Cas?"  
"Mmph?"  
"I got you something else." A gift Sam and Bobby knew nothing about. Just between him and Cas.  
Cas rolled over to look him in the eye. His brow furrowed a little. "What is it, Dean?" Dean knew he didn't mean the gift. It was a little spooky how well he could read Dean. Dean felt unnaturally sweaty. The _idea_ was great. It was only when it came to actually _doing_ this, that it suddenly seemed impossible, too hard, too momentous a thing. Dean hesitated, until Cas held up the covers. Suddenly, Dean felt better.  
Nothing was changing. He climbed under the covers, small box still clutched in his hand. He could give Cas the gift and nothing would change. The gift made no difference. It was the words he wanted to say with the gift that were choking him. He slid in next to Cas, until they were close enough for Cas to rest a hand on Dean's hip. Dean got that breathless feeling he always did when Cas looked at him, with all the barriers down like that.  
It was warm and soft and nice, and Dean didn't know when they had started kissing, but that happened to him a lot lately. Cas pulled away a little, exhaling softly against Dean's lips and brushed a hand through Dean's hair.  
"What is it?"  
Dean held out the hand with the plain black box in it. This time Cas truly frowned. He propped himself up on an elbow, immediately more awake. He sensed it was something beyond simple appearances, something symbolic, and looked into Dean's eyes.  
"Should I open this?" It was a loaded question. It gave Dean the option to back out, the chance to explain it away. Dean nodded. He had nothing to fear from Cas. With Cas, what he saw (and thought too good to be true) was what he got.  
Cas nodded once, touched his cheek as though to reassure him and looked at the box again. He flipped back the lid. Inside, nestled in the black satin lining, was a gleaming, silver Zippo lighter, hand-engraved with a finely detailed flaming winged heart, the kind that belonged in an old-fashioned tattoo. It was a beautiful, simple thing that represented them both. Cas ran his fingers over the engraving and removed it from its dark nest. It felt comfortably heavy. He held it flat, weighing it in his palm, then noticed something on the base. In small italic capitals was etched 'Perpetuum tuum est'. 'Always yours.' He flipped the lid and struck it. It lit on the first try, with a bright, clear flame. It stayed lit until the lid was flipped shut. Cas looked at Dean, his eyes shining with emotion.  
The gift was incomplete yet. Dean took a few breaths before starting. "I'm not really the commitment type." Dean rubbed his mouth with his sweaty hand. He was so bad at this. Why did he start with the very thing he _didn't_ want to say? He wiped his hands on his pants and continued.  
"But… I kind of want you to know, that we're…permanent… You're not allowed to just up and leave." Dean bit his lip. He hoped that didn't sound defensive. He wanted Cas to know he belonged, but Dean sucked at communicating. He looked back up, hoping Cas would stop him  
with a kiss or something, but Cas watched and waited, sensing there was more. Dean looked for disappointment or confusion, but all he saw was patience and a little curiosity.  
"I guess I wanted you to know …that I wanna keep you. That I want you to stay. That you're safe … with me. That no-one else is allowed to…'covet' you."  
The corner of Cas' mouth curled up mischievously. " 'Covet' me? They may _covet_ me all they wish. They can't _have_ me."  
He placed the lighter carefully into its box and placed it on the bedside table. He put his hand over Dean's and turned it over. He kissed Dean's fingertips, Dean's palm, the inside of his wrist. "Sumus animae indivisi, Dean," he said in a low voice, "…carissimus meus." *  
"Cas, if you're trying to sound sexy with all the Latin - mission accomplished."  
Cas' smile turned into a laugh. Dean smiled back, hugging him warmly. Cas understood. Dean didn't want to be serious about being 'serious'. The fierce tightness of the hug told Cas all he needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Our souls are one, my most belovéd."


	14. Chapter 14

Sam sat reading the news on his laptop before checking his watch and comparing it to the time on his computer. Cas and Dean were really sleeping late. He would go and wake them, but he had learned the hard way that it was a good way to achieve mental scarring. They'd come out when they were ready.  
Half an hour later, Sam was looking at his watch for the fifth time. Surely they were awake? He was bored and the whole point of them coming here was so they could hang out together for Christmas. He walked over to their door and hesitated. He thought he heard their voices. It sounded like conversation. It didn't sound compromising. But with Dean you just never knew. He heard their voices again. It definitely sounded like normal conversation. He decided to take a risk and knocked lightly on the door with his knuckles.  
"Guys? You awake?"  
"Come in, Sam." Cas responded.  
Sam hesitantly poked his head around the door, and stepped in when he saw they were both in bed and still clothed. Cas sat up with a book in his hands, Dean lay sprawled face down, still tucked under the blankets but, presumably, awake.  
"I borrowed one of your books, Sam. I hope you don't mind." Sam saw Cas had a copy of an old poetry book in his hands.  
"It's intriguing. For example, all of the rules of sentence structure and grammar are broken by E.E Cummings, yet he still conveys his meaning."  
"Is that what you guys were discussing? I could hear you guys talking." Sam's eyes were focussed on Dean.  
Cas glanced at Dean's splayed form with good humour.  
"Dean just enjoys the sound of my voice." He reached out with one hand and stroked the back of Dean's head.  
"Mmrr," Dean agreed from the pillow. "And the juicy bits." Dean amended.  
"The 'juicy bits'?" Sam's brow wrinkled.  
"Dean is an astute judge of poetic imagery," Cas explained.  
He turned the page and read, "O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!  
O sun, that from thy noonday height  
Shudderest when I strain my sight,  
Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,  
Lo, falling from my constant mind,  
Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind,  
I whirl like leaves in roaring wind."*  
He turned his face towards Dean. "Dean?"  
Dean's muffled voice could be heard from the pillow, "All I heard was 'shuddering, throbbing heat' and then 'falling, parched and withered.'" He gave a quiet snort. Cas gave Sam a secretly amused look. "He does tend to strip away the romance of the imagery in the process of summarizing it."  
Sam sat on the corner of the bed and smiled. He was starting to understand how these two managed to fit together. "I thought we could just …hang out today. Before you guys go again…"  
Dean rolled over onto his back and rubbed his face. "Sure." He propped himself up and yawned widely. "I could stand to eat some breakfast."  
"…and maybe you guys should think about … settling down. A home base. A place to call your own."  
Cas put his book down. Dean and Cas looked at each other. Sam couldn't read their blank faces, but the look held most of a discussion in it. They turned back to Sam, who looked ready to be chastised. Cas placed his hand on Dean's shoulder.  
"You're trying to help, or be supportive, or whatever. I get it." Sam waited nervously for Dean to continue. It wasn't the defensive anger Sam had been expecting.  
"Me and Cas, we're good. We're solid. Just 'cause you don't _see_ it, doesn't mean me and Cas don't discuss… stuff. But we gotta go at our own pace, man." Cas gave Dean's shoulder a proud squeeze.  
Sam stood up. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. But you're right, I am trying to be supportive. You guys just looked comfortable while you were staying here, you know? Like it agreed with you, being somewhere more than two days in a row."  
"It _was_ pleasant," Cas agreed. "But for now, you and Bobby are our 'home base'. And we don't feel comfortable yet, living in one place, where we might be easily found." He darted a concerned glance at Dean. Sam read between the lines, and guessed it was Dean who was still nervous about making them vulnerable to attack. Even though their heads were worth much less bounty since Dooms' Day had been averted. It was true, there were enough… things… in the world that bore them a grudge. Enough that it could occasionally crop up as a problem. Maybe as the world rolled on, with its fate no longer tangled with that of the Winchesters, people would forget about them and Dean would start to feel safer.  
"I've settled here and I've been okay," Sam pointed out.  
Dean locked hard eyes on him. "Yeah? Think you'd be confident keeping Laura and Sophie safe too?"  
Sam's lips compressed in a thin line. He breathed out loudly through his nose.  
"Okay. Point taken." He didn't really want to argue with Dean. Not when Dean was just trying to make him understand how he felt, without actually talking about feelings. It was about not seeing the people you cared about get hurt. Cas was as capable as Sam or Dean of looking after himself where freaks and monsters were involved, but Dean's emotions weren't going to acknowledge that. At least Dean had admitted they discussed 'stuff'.  
Sam blew out a breath. "I don't want to argue. I'll make us hotcakes for breakfast, okay?"  
Dean grinned and clapped a hand on Sam's arm. "Finally. Something we agree on."  
"You know you guys are welcome to come and stay here, any time you want a break from the road."

-oOo-  
Then Sam ruined it all by making all of Dean's hotcakes heart-shaped.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Part of the poem 'Fatima' by Lord Alfred Tennyson. Christina Rossetti, Emily Dickinson, John Donne, John Clare, EE Cummings, Walt Whitman. All are great if you need some inspiration. No-one gets creatively descriptive like a poet!
> 
> \-------
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed and feel free to comment on whatever strikes you.


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